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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068509">Songbird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumisfordrinking/pseuds/rumisfordrinking'>rumisfordrinking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sad birds still sing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band), ONEUS (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Injury, Eventual Happy Ending, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Illness, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, Phisical and Emotional Abuse, Romance, Smut, Song Mingi is Whipped, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, Yeo Hwanwoong is a Sweetheart, rating reflects the entire story chapters have additional rating and warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>62,178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumisfordrinking/pseuds/rumisfordrinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The way I see it, I think you’re too naive to have malicious intentions,” The Raven speaks. “But I don’t think you’re stupid enough to not realize that what you’re doing is, for a lack of better phrasing at the moment, bad.”<br/>“Oh,” Mingi mouths, blinking at the man beside him. </p><p>“Don’t get me wrong - I haven’t seen Woongie this happy in a long while,” he continues, a heavy note of concern and worry underlining all his words. “But this little game you’ve been playing has lasted long enough Hwanwoong almost got hurt, and we don’t want that, do we?”</p><p>“It’s not a game. Hwanwoong is my friend.” Mingi replies, offended for the both of them. He digs his feet into the ground, refusing to keep walking, wanting to look at The Raven in the eyes, no matter how intimidating he is. </p><p>or </p><p>Hwanwoong is a little bird locked in a cage, and Mingi is the one to let him out.</p><p>[complete]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Song Mingi/Yeo Hwanwoong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sad birds still sing [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic has been in the works for a year and a half. It's done and it's finally seeing the light of day and I couldn't be happier. I hope you will enjoy &lt;3<br/>I want to thank @persephoneregina, for beta reading and listening to me rant and my other half of my only braincell @KeiEri931 for existing.</p><p>This chapter rating is G for Good Boys.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>There’s stairs and more stairs up the tower.</p><p>As he climbs them, Mingi has the feeling that he shouldn’t be allowed so high up, but no one ever mentioned anything to him before. Seoho did say that the whole tower needed cleaning after all, so he slowly makes his way up, one step at a time, bucket in one hand, rags in the other.</p><p>It isn’t until he’s on the third floor that he hears it: it’s faint at first, and Mingi doesn’t really realize it’s someone singing until he’s almost done with the steps on the fourth floor. He sits back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his brow as the voice carries through to him. It’s soft, sweet and light, effortless despite the high notes. It’s a man singing about following a thread that leads to someone, and for some reason Mingi feels a deep melancholy seep into his chest, weighing his heart down. He keeps listening for another verse, before getting back to work. There’s another two floors, and whoever is singing is probably on top. “Maybe it’s another servant,” he mumbles to the marbled floor. “Maybe someone from the family? There’s someone living at the top?”</p><p>He works quicker, sacrificing a bit of precision, but he’s done with the steps in the time of another song, one that sounds even sadder than the one before, of helpless darkness and feeble light. The last line is sung over and over as Mingi stretches fully now, joints aching from a morning spent kneeling on the floor. He’s singing along, or at least he hopes he is. He’s never been a good vocalist, but the melody and range is easy enough to follow.</p><p>There’s only one door at the top of the tower, heavy wood carved on the top center with what looks like two concentric circles filled in, but only in half. It’s slightly ajar, and Mingi has always been someone that never managed to keep his curiosity at bay.</p><p>He peeks in and the first thing he sees is a canopy bed, layered sheer drapes in a gradient of dark grey messily pulled up and tied to the poles. It’s undone, sheets gathered at the end in a pile. There’s a book left in the middle. Shadows in a diamond pattern cover pretty much the whole space, disrupted by a shape moving across them, which is what makes Mingi finally look up.</p><p>There is a man, short and lithe, dressed in all black despite the heat of summer, sleeveless button up and tight jeans, standing in front of one of the huge windows that Mingi knew ran all around the top of the tower, having seen them from outside. The man has light blond hair, nicely styled and combed in a side part, silver earrings along the curve of his ears and rings on his fingers. But what really stands out is a lace trim draped across his eyes, tied in a tight knot on the back of his head. It doesn’t seem to completely impede his sight, as the man walks slowly across the room to a stool set between the bed and one of the windows. He sits down, humming the same refrain from the last song under his breath. Now that he is facing the door, Mingi sees something glinting in the sun on his neck as well: a little silver bell nestled in a cluster of lace that tied back into a choker. </p><p>“Cute,” he murmurs absentmindedly, and the man snaps his head up.</p><p>“Hyung, is that you?” the man asks toward the door, head tilted slightly to the right.</p><p>Mingi, despite having lived his whole life pulling pranks and telling the most unbelievable lies, feels a bit shy and embarrassed for some reason now, so he just knocks on the door and steps in, bowing politely. “Hello, my name is Mingi. I’m one of the servants,” he greets, tapping his foot against the empty bucket. “I heard you sing. Your voice is really pretty.”</p><p>There’s a long pause where Mingi feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Maybe he really shouldn’t have lurked, maybe these are the private chambers of some bastard heir who’s existence had been kept a secret from everyone. Maybe this is actually the true Lord, trapped into a tower by his evil brother who snatched the crown from him in a fight after their parents died a tragic death. Or maybe this is just a member of the palace’s insiders, and Mingi has been just a bit impolite in his manner of introducing himself. He’s about to speak again, when the stranger smiles brightly, hiding a giggle behind a hand. </p><p>“You scared me, I thought you were The Raven,” he says, standing up and taking a step towards Mingi. “I’m Hwanwoong.”</p><p>“Hello, Hwanwoong,” Mingi replies, and now that they were closer, he couldn’t help but notice how he has to actually tilt his head down to look him in the eyes. Well, lace, as he now was also close enough to see that he had them closed underneath the black trim. “My name is Mingi.”</p><p>“You said that. Are you new? I don’t think I remember a Mingi,” Hwanwoong asks, a hand rising in front of him. Mingi is confused for a moment, before the tips of Hwanwoong’s fingers touch his chest. They twitch, as Hwanwoong furrows his brow, before travelling up to his shoulder.</p><p>“Wow, you’re tall.” Hwanwoong states, and even though Mingi has heard it a thousand times, the affirmation somehow never sounded this mix of upset and intrigued. “I’m sorry, I can’t see well during the day, so I don’t know where to look.” His head tilts up and there is a coy smile on his lips. “I’ve probably been looking at your neck this whole time.”</p><p>“I think it was more like the end of my sternum,” Mingi tutts, grinning back, hoping Hwanwoong can feel anyway he hasn’t taken any kind of offence. </p><p>“I literally have my hand on your shoulder. I can feel you’re not that tall.” Hwanwoong huffs, swatting playfully at said shoulder. He walks back to his bed, one hand out until it touches the mattress, so that he could sit down. “Have I left the door open again?”</p><p>“Just a bit.” Mingi replies, standing awkwardly. He kind of wants to sit down beside him, but still doesn’t know how friendly he can be - he doesn’t want to lose his job so soon. Maybe he could ask, since they did skip directly to second base for a moment there. “I’m sorry I lurked, I hoped you’d be singing again.”</p><p>Hwanwoong’s smile falters a bit, but his voice seems the same as before when he speaks. “It’s okay. Unless you’ve been here when I was getting dressed. That would be creepy, and I would like for you to get out, please, if that’s the case.”</p><p>Mingi laughs, shaking his head. Then remembers Hwanwoong said he couldn’t see well, so he adds: “No, I finished cleaning the stairs when you finished your song. I would’ve had to wait anyway for them to dry anyway.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be better to start from the top down, so that you wouldn’t be stuck here?” Hwanwoong asks, and Mingi’s smile slips from his lips, face going slack.</p><p>“Oh fuck, I’m an idiot.”</p><p>They both laugh at the same time, loud and clear. Mingi sees Hwanwoong cover his mouth with a hand, again, and he finds it to be such a cute habit. Or maybe it was the polite thing to do? He was taught etiquette and manners, sure, but laughing was not mentioned anywhere at all. He always felt a bit self-conscious, since he knew he laughed openly, mouth wide and teeth out, and more than once he had been reprimanded about being too loud in his glee. </p><p>“Is Seoho hyung sick?” Hwanwoong asks, hands in his lap, posture perfect.</p><p>“Uh, I don’t know.” Mingi sways on his heels, unsure what to do with himself. There’s a chair not too far, tucked under a vanity. He awkwardly walks backwards to it. “Were you waiting for him?”</p><p>“Oh, no - it’s just that only him and Raven come into my chambers usually.” Hwanwoong replies and Mingi stops halfway, thrown off balance for a second there, before sitting. He swallows. Maybe he wasn’t allowed in here, afterall, and it has been pure luck no one had found out. He doesn’t know how bad of a thing it is, to be here in a room where apparently only two people are allowed in, but he has no intention of finding out.</p><p>“Not even the Lord?” he asks, curious. </p><p>Hwanwoong’s nose scrunches. “The Lord hardly ever comes by, unless it’s to ask for my services,” he says. He must probably feel the confusion and embarrassment on Mingi’s face, because he turns bright red and waves his hand in his general direction, stuttering. “For all the stars in the sky, what are you even thinking! I sing!”</p><p>And then every single hair on Mingi’s person stands up, goosebumps travelling from the back of his neck down his spine and arms, as Hwanwoong sings. But it doesn’t feel the same as before. It feels like the air is charged with static like before lightning strikes, like it’s getting thicker and thicker, almost like water. For some reason he can’t make out the words, but he can somewhat understand the meaning. </p><p>
  <em>Listen, I’m singing.</em>
</p><p>As Hwanwoong’s closing note hangs in the air for one last moment, Mingi realizes who he’s sitting in front of, and how screwed he’d be if he was to be caught in here with him. The bell on Hwanwoong’s choker chimes once and Mingi’s hands shakes.</p><p>“I… I need to go.” Mingi murmurs, standing up. He trips on his feet and almost falls on his ass, but a hand steadies him. Hwanwoong is clutching at his sleeve, furrowed eyebrows peeking from the lace blindfold. He’s so close Mingi can see his eyes move under his closed eyelids.</p><p>“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” Hwanwoong asks, small and shy. </p><p>“Oh, no - no!” Mingi rushes to reassure him. How can Hwanwoong not realize what he has just done? Does he not know? How could he not know? “I’m… I shouldn’t stay this long. They’ll come looking for me and I’ll get in trouble.”</p><p>Hwanwoong’s lips curve into a little ‘o’ and he pulls away his hand, smoothing down the wrinkles on Mingi’s sleeve. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m sure you must have more work to do.” he says, and this time the smile is back in his voice. </p><p>Mingi smiles back. “Sadly, that is correct.” He collects his empty bucket, rag and broom, Hwanwoong standing right inside his room, half hidden behind his door. “Have a nice day, Hwanwoong.”</p><p>“How old are you, Mingi?” Hwanwoong asks, leaning against the door. He’s not trying to look in the general direction of Mingi’s face anymore, head tilted downwards.</p><p>“Twenty-two.”</p><p>“Then, you should call me hyung.” Hwanwoong smirks. “I’m one year older.”</p><p>Mingi laughs at that. “Okay. Bye, hyung!” </p><p>He hears the door close, as he walks down the stairs two by two. He’s almost forgotten the fear and awe he felt when Hwanwoong sang, but is reminded about it immediately when he sees a figure, completely clad in black, on the stairs in front of him. He freezes on the spot, giving a polite bow as the man passes him by.</p><p>He’s very handsome, skin light and hair pitch black, like the long coat with  feathered collar he’s wearing. He squints his eyes at Mingi for just a moment, and for that whole moment he feels like a steak left in front of a hungry feline. The man nods his head at him, with a slight smirk, before rushing past.</p><p>Mingi wonders what would’ve happened if he had been found in the room with Hwanwoong instead.</p><p>---</p><p>The Lords’ villa is huge, towering threateningly in the middle of the extensive garden it was built on, just a few streets from the Capital’s center. Mingi had always seen it in drawings and lithographs, and it didn't look nearly as massive as it actually is. When he was riding in the carriage that brought him there, he clearly remembers the other two boys that were with him gasping quietly at some point. He had leaned over, pulled aside a curtain to look out the door window, and had seen the building, menacing and imposing, with its sleek, stone walls and dark elaborate edges, golden details around windows and across the pitch black roof.</p><p>Then, just as the carriage turned a corner, the Tower came into his view. It was the tallest one, sitting right at the angle between the left wing and the center, at least two stories higher. The last floor contrasted with the rest of the building, as it was mostly windows all around the hexagon of the walls, black bars criss crossing across the glass, the roof made in the same fashion, curved in a dome. Columns in a Corinthian style reinforcing where the walls met.</p><p>He remembers wondering if that was the Lord’s chambers, but discarding the idea immediately. He remembers the boys whispering.</p><p>“It looks old and creepy.”</p><p>“It looks so cold.”</p><p>He remembers thinking, “It looks like a <em>cage.</em>”</p><p>---</p><p>“It’s going to be easier if you hold the knife like this.”</p><p>Mingi didn’t really study to become a kitchen boy. He was more skilled in the arts of dancing and writing, he could clean up well and he was strong and tall to help with repairs. But the maids had said that he was going to do every work he was asked until the head butler himself would find a use for him. So when he found himself in the kitchen and he recognized one face between all, he just stuck to the boy’s side and hoped for the best.</p><p>His name is San and he’s a little thing, wrists so thin he is afraid they would snap in half at the littlest pressure. He is soft spoken and very friendly and has already been at the villa for a while. </p><p>San is now fussing around him, showing the best way to dice potatoes for the stew all the staff was going to eat later for dinner. </p><p>“Here, see? This way your wrist doesn’t get as sore and you have less chances of cutting your fingers.” He says, with a kind smile that almost pushes his eyes closed.</p><p>Mingi nods, returning to messily chop his potatoes. On his right sat the neatly piled, perfectly round pieces of San’s chopped carrots. “Thank you.”</p><p>Silence laps between them again and Mingi’s head slips into the repetitive motions, thinking about his first month working in the villa. He hasn’t been everywhere yet, he can barely remember his way around the left and center wing, where he has been assigned, and he has literally no idea what’s in the right wing except all the private chambers of the Lord’s family and inner circle guestrooms. He does remember perfectly how to reach the tower, even if he hasn’t dared visiting Hwanwoong in his room again. Every time he ends up ‘stuck’ on top, he can hear the boy talking with someone, or no noises at all. Sure, he could knock, but by the time he has gathered enough courage to, the stairs have dried and he has lost any excuse to linger.</p><p>“Sanie, Sanie, the cook asked for rabbit, we don’t have rabbit.” Wooyoung, another kitchen boy whines, walking up to them. He is broad and looks like he’d be better off outside, maybe with the guard, but he really doesn’t know how the staff has been actually sorted out. Maybe Wooyoung is a prodigy chef. Or maybe he just refused to be separated from San, which seems to be the case most of the time, as Mingi has never seen them apart for any period of time.</p><p>“What’s the rabbit for? The snobs are eating meat and we got soup.” San asks, frowning at the carrots but not stopping his movements. Mingi smiles awkwardly at a kitchen maid who overheard the not so nice term of endearment for their employers.</p><p>“I think it’s for the Songbird.” Wooyoung says, his voice dropping into a whisper. </p><p>Mingi’s knife slips and he hisses as he nics the tip of his left index finger. He sticks the finger right into his mouth between the whining and reprimandings of San, fussing already to get him a tissue and the salve that was kept in the kitchen just for this kind of occasion.</p><p>“Didn’t you know there is a Songbird here?” Wooyoung asks, voice barely a whisper when mentioning Hwanwoong, like it is something bad, something scary. Mingi chooses to just raise an eyebrow and swallow down all the questions around the tip of his fingers, copper bitter on his tongue. “It’s kind of the first thing people learn coming here,” Wooyoung continues, taking San’s place, chopping carrots with the same speed. “He’s on top of the tallest tower. Kinda cute that it sorta looks like a birdcage right?”</p><p><em>I think it’s cruel</em>, Mingi thinks, but doesn’t say out loud, as San comes back with a thin strip of gauze and a round tin box. “I guess it can’t be helped if you’re not used to handling knives,” San pouts, rubbing the salve into his cut - it isn’t really that deep, but it was still bleeding. “But please be careful with your hands, okay?” He wraps the gauze around it and gives it a cute little kiss.</p><p>Mingi is reminded of his time spent in the orphanage, where he would get scraped knees and elbows, running crying to the Lady of the house and she would kiss it all better. She later revealed to him, when he was still stuck in there, unwanted and too old for even hoping in a family taking him in, that she did that to make sure he wasn’t really hurt. “If you stop crying, then it was just a little scare,” she told him, rocking one of the smallest babies on her knee, while another two dangled from his arms. “But if it was a real hurt, you would’ve kept crying.”</p><p>He was around seven when he got a ‘real hurt’, falling off from the old oak in the back of the garden, right onto his arm, breaking it in half with a nasty sound. He had also sprained his ankle, thus being ordered to sit still inside, while everyone else played in the spring sun. One of the helpers had carried him to the small library, picked a little illustrated book and sat down to read it for him, in the hopes that it would have calmed him down enough until dinner time.</p><p>The book was called ‘Songbird’ and it had a tiny and brown nightingale perched on a dark, bare branch on the cover. The story talked about a songbird, named Kihyun, whose voice was so beautiful and so powerful that he could have melted the coldest of hearts, and turn the meanest person into the kindest one. He just needed to sing about calm to placate those who were fighting, sing about vigor to inspire strength to those who were tired, or sing about love to mend those who had had their heart broken.</p><p>One day, the King of a faraway place, who was passing through the village, heard him sing and asked Kihyun to come with him to his kingdom and sing for him. His country had been at war for years, and lots of people had died, while the survivors lived in poverty and fear. He had been asking the enemy king for a truce, but none of his ambassadors ever made it back with an answer.</p><p>“Your Majesty,” the songbird said, “My voice is powerful, but my heart is weak. The journey might kill me, if the singing won’t.”</p><p>“Please, little bird,” pleaded the ruler. “Maybe he’ll listen to your song and his heart will have mercy on us.”</p><p>The songbird accepted, and the King appointed his best guard to take care of him. They rode to the other country and Kihyun sang so well that not only the other King agreed to stop the war, but also decided to help out, almost giving up his whole country too. </p><p>The King had been so impressed by the songbird’s power that he asked him to come to his court.</p><p>“Your Majesty,” The songbird said “My voice is powerful, but my heart is weak. The lack of freedom might kill me, if the court won’t.”</p><p>“Please, little bird,” pleaded the ruler “If war comes again, you could save so many lives, singing for us.”</p><p>But war never came and the King asked for more and more from the songbird, begging for him to sing in order to gain riches and alliances and women and love. And every time the bird sang, his heart ached just a little  bit more.</p><p>Until one day he collapsed, carried away by the faithful guard always by his side. “Little bird,” his lover said, “You shouldn’t suffer so much for the greed of a sad man. I’ll carry you home tonight.”</p><p>But when the night came, his lover didn’t. The King appeared instead.</p><p>“Your Majesty,” the songbird said, tears down his cheeks and heart beating against his ribs “My voice is powerful, but my heart is weak. You might kill me, if I don’t.”</p><p>And the bird sang, clear and beautiful, with so much emotion his heart felt like it would burst at any moment. But it never did, and the King fell, and his lover came and took him away.</p><p>“Is that what happened to them?” He remembers asking, his lanky legs folded awkwardly under him. He was starting to not really fit anywhere, having grown so tall. He can’t remember what the Lady of the house told him, but Mingi had always been confused by the hasty way the story had been rushed to an end, until he read the same book himself, years later, and learnt that what had been kept from his younger self was that the King had killed the Songbird lover, and that his song had brought him back from the dead.</p><p>He knows Songbirds are not as powerful, but the most skilled ones are said to change people’s minds, even the most stubborn ones.</p><p>“Have you ever seen him? Hwanwoong?” Mingi asks, keeping his voice as low as Wooyoung. He turns back to his potatoes and, this time, he tries to be twice as careful as before.</p><p>San and Wooyoung tilt their heads in sync. “How do you know his name?”</p><p>Mingi has never been so glad to be reprimanded for being caught slacking on his job than he is now, as a kitchen maid slaps all their asses with a towel and tells them to get back to chopping.</p><p>---</p><p>Mingi sees Hwanwoong again three days later. He’s been power walking with arms filled with linens back and forth from the servants’ rooms, changing beds and towels. He was just getting another set when he sees him at the end of the corridor, arms linked with the pale man in the feathered coat - but without a coat this time. They are chatting quietly between them, and as the other staff meets them, they pull back and bow their heads, before going back to their tasks.</p><p>Mingi stutters in his movements, when he meets the pale man's eyes, but manages to step back and bow properly.</p><p>“Do you have work tomorrow?” He hears Hwanwoong ask, in a cutesy whiny voice. “Can’t you come keep me company?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I have to leave for the eastern towns,” the man replies, squeezing Hwanwoong’s hand gently. “I’ll make sure to send Seoho over, okay?”</p><p>Mingi watches their backs disappear around a corner, turns to one of the maids near him. “Uhm, who are they?” </p><p>“That’s The Raven,” she answers, without even looking at him. “He’s one of the ambassadors. The other is the songbird - I’m sure you’ve heard about him by now.” She gives him a pointed look before nodding to the linens in his arms and another room to clean. Mingi nods and goes back to work, thinking, hoping that he gets to clean the tower’s stairs tomorrow.</p><p>---</p><p>By now he knows the Lord keeps the songbird in great consideration, he has been told so the other day, while he was cleaning the kitchen for the night, by a couple of the oldest maids. They were all <em>‘ooh’</em>s and <em>‘aah’</em>s while they chatted, cooing and smiling.</p><p>Hwanwoong’s room is fully furnished in mahogany, drapes and curtains made of the prettiest, softest damasked velvet, silk bed sheets and warm woolen blankets. His clothes are tailored perfectly to his figure, made with the most expensive fabrics, decorated with silver chains and sparkling gems. Even his lace blindfolds are handmade with the best cotton thread.</p><p>He’s cooked the food he requires, and if he asks for any kind of presents or items, he’s given them. Apparently, The Raven dotes on him more than anyone else, even the lords, treating him like a little brother.  </p><p>But as he climbs the steps up the tower two by two, and remembers one of the cooks telling them that the songbird isn’t allowed outside his room without someone accompanying him, Mingi wonders how can all those commodities compensate for the loneliness. </p><p><em>A birdcage,</em> he thinks again, leaning his ear over the cold wood of the door, trying to hear if there’s anyone inside. </p><p>He knocks, twice. There’s silence for a couple seconds before Hwanwoong’s voice carries through from behind the door. “Who’s there?”</p><p>“I might have gotten stuck on top of the stairs again,” Mingi sing-songs, rocking on his heels. “Can I come in?”</p><p>The door creaks open slowly, Hwanwoong hiding behind it. His eyes are hidden behind what looks like a black silk scarf this time, he’s dressed in an oversized knitted sweater and a soft pair of pants. He smiles, shy. “Hi, Mingi.”</p><p>“Hi.” Mingi answers, but makes no move to enter until Hwanwoong steps aside and motions for him to. The curtains are pulled open and tied into place, the harsh autumn sun pours in, brightly enough for Mingi to squint to see where he’s going.</p><p>“You still haven’t learnt to clean from the top to the bottom of the tower?” Hwanwoong teases, leaning against the door to close it. He stays there, head tilted. The size of the door dwarfs him, not helped by the contrast of the light wood against his black clothes.</p><p>“You don’t understand, hyung. It’s a tactic.” Mingi explains, padding around the room. The first time he’s been inside, he hadn’t really had the time to look at it properly, and now he’s curious if there’s really all the things the maids had mentioned. “If I do that, I’d be stuck on the bottom, instead of being here to chat with you.”</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs, shaking his head. He walks up to Mingi and taps his elbow in a request to take his arm. Mingi lets him and Hwanwoong leads him to a plush couch, next to a big wardrobe. There’s at least two blankets thrown over it, one of which looks like Hwanwoong was curled up under and had just left to get to the door. There’s books spread over the coffee table in front, some open, some piled, all of them with dog ears and marked pages. One even looks like it was messily sewn back together twice, appearing very worn. He can see that most of them have raised writings, of the ones he knows being used for people who can’t see well or at all.</p><p> “This looks cozy,” he says, sitting down and taking the blanket. He drapes it over both his and Hwanwoong’s legs and immediately feels much warmer.</p><p>“I wish it wasn’t all windows. It gets stupidly cold in the winter, and all the light that keeps pouring in makes me dizzy,” Hwanwoong whines, pulling up his legs and leaning against the big pillows that had kept the indentation of his body from before. </p><p>“Can’t you draw the curtains?” Mingi asks, hands in his lap. He’s unsure what to do with himself. He’s a servant and despite Hwanwoong treating him like some sort of new acquaintance, he shouldn't overstep his boundaries carelessly. He’s still unsure he’s even allowed in, and honesty, he’d rather never find out. </p><p>Hwanwoong makes a face, nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul. “I could do it myself if only they let me. They tie them high enough that you need one of those extra long hooked poles and I, of course, am not allowed one.” He shrugs. “Might hurt myself with it.”</p><p>Mingi rubs the back of his head. “Well, I bet I can reach it with a stool.” He says, nodding to himself. He gets a kick in his ribs. “Hey! I’m tall and resourceful!”</p><p>“You,” Hwanwoong says smiling over his book. “are a liar. I tried standing up over a table and a chair and I couldn’t reach.”</p><p>“But that’s because you come up to, like, my hip or something.” And this time Hwanwoong launches at him with the book, hitting Mingi’s shoulder. Mingi whines and pouts, rubbing the spot that of course doesn’t hurt at all, but he’s milking his reaction for what’s worth it and he even starts hiccuping to make it a bit more dramatic. “That hurt, hyung. I think you cracked my femur.”</p><p>“The femur is in your leg,” Hwanwoong replies, and his eye roll could be seen even from under the blindfold. “Which, by the way, you could do with a couple inches off, so it’s not like it’d be an issue.”</p><p>Mingi tries to keep the hurt act going, but he can’t help laughing. Hwanwoong joins him right away, and this time he’s leaning over him, bumping their shoulders and putting a hand over the blanket on Mingi’s leg. He expects the songbird to pull back, but instead he simply burrows close enough their shoulders stay touching. “Jokes aside, do you want me to try to get the curtains closed?” he asks.</p><p>Hwanwoong closes his book with a sigh. “If it’s not too much of a bother... It’s really bad today.”</p><p>Mingi nods, slipping out of the blanket. He looks up at where the curtains are tied with a simple strip of velvet and two magnets, the same way all the other curtains in the palace were. He looks around, sees a table, a chair and a sturdy wooden trunk, and piles them together. He tests the stability of his structures, realizes that if he falls and breaks his neck he’s lived a nice life and would have little regrets, and climbs up. </p><p>He hears Hwanwoong suck in a worried breath from the couch, and when he risks a glance over, he sees he’s discarded the book and is now keeping his hands together, fingers entangled, right under his chin, head tilted up to his general direction. Mingi turns and reaches up, arm stretching as far as it could go. His fingers brush against the clasp, and he goes on the tip of his toes to finally snap it open. The curtain glides open over the glass with a soft sound, and immediately all light is blocked, a dark shadow cutting the room in half.</p><p>“Please climb down now,” Hwanwoong says, kneeling on the edge of the couch, looking ready to bolt at any time to… catch Mingi if he falls? And subsequently getting squished under his weight? Maybe. It’s endearing enough to make Mingi smile. </p><p>“Let me close at least these three,” Mingi says, carefully hopping down and starting to move around the furniture to reach the next clutch. “So you’ll have more shade.”</p><p>Hwanwoong whines, a high pitched little sound that seems stuck in his throat as he doesn’t even open his mouth to let it out. “Please, be careful, I’d rather you not hurt yourself.”</p><p>Mingi laughs. “Hyung, don’t you know? I’m actually an angel. My wings appear only when I need them.”</p><p>It takes him a little over twenty minutes, due to moving stuff around and avoiding certain death - or at least breaking his arm again - but in the end, he’s happy to see that Hwanwoong does actually look much more relaxed than before. He didn’t realize how tight strung he was before, jaw clenched, shoulders raised. He can even see how his eyebrows are now smoothed out, instead of being stuck in a perennial frown. “Better, yes?” he asks, walking back to the couch. Hwanwoong has laid down and now there is no room for him to sit, so he simply decides to perch over one arm. </p><p>“So much better…” Hwanwoong sighs, smiling at him.</p><p>Mingi can’t help but smile back, feeling a silly little sparkle in his chest at the sight. “Can I ask how bad is your eyesight?” </p><p>Hwanwoong hums, sitting up. “It’s not that bad, actually. I can see pretty decently once the sun goes down.” He explains, untying the blindfold and letting it fall on his lap. “It’s just that my eyes are extremely sensitive to light,” his eyelashes flutter, stark black against the pink of his cheek, before he opens his eyes and this time Mingi is the one sucking in a breath. “See?”</p><p>Hwanwoong eyes are an icy light grey, and when the light catches them just right, they look white. He blinks twice up at Mingi, but even with the newfound relief of the closed curtains, he can see tears gathering on his waterline as Hwanwoong starts squinting up at him. Two fat tears roll down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes close, wiping them away before draping the blindfold back over them. </p><p>“You’re so pretty.”</p><p>It’s really nowhere near what Mingi wanted to say. He was thinking about some weird comparison like how the eyes made him look unreal, as if painted in watercolors, but that’s what got out of his mouth and now he has to deal with the blush that is bursting high in his cheeks and has turned his ears undoubtedly red.</p><p>Hwanwoong looks surprised, but not much better, if the lovely shade of tomato his ears are taking was of any indication. “Not really flattering coming from a pathological liar.”</p><p>“Hey, I did manage to reach the curtains! I wasn’t lying!” Mingi whines, and he doesn’t really know why proving that he was telling the truth when he called Hwanwoong as a whole pretty, instead of only his eyes, seemed to be the way he wanted the conversation to go, but he has dug this grave and now he should lie in it. If that’s even how the saying went.</p><p>Hwanwoong, because he’s actually a lovely human being, simply smiles, head tilted down shyly. “Thank you for coming. Usually no one does, besides The Raven and Seoho-hyung.”</p><p>“I’ll tell you a secret,” Mingi whispers, standing up and leaning over. “I don’t really know if I’m allowed in here.”</p><p>Hwanwoong giggles, mouth hidden behind his hand. “Oh no, really?” he whispers back. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”</p><p>Mingi shrugs, but starts walking backwards to the door anyway. “Let’s not get caught, then.”</p><p>They wave each other farewell and Mingi has a spring in his step that wasn’t really there when he had climbed up. San makes a comment, when he skips into the kitchen to help with lunch preparations, but Mingi just tells him he’s woken up in a good mood.</p><p>“I wanted to ask, who is Seoho?” Mingi says instead, as they take out pots and pans and ladles to set on the cooking stations. “I keep hearing him mentioned but I don’t think I’ve met him yet?”</p><p>“He’s, like, head butler for center wing, but really manages the whole staff.” San replies. “You’ve seen him for sure. Tiny, black hair, when he smiles he lights up the room, flowers bloom and birds sing.”</p><p>Wooyoung snorts. “You have such a huge crush on him, Sanie, that’s embarrassing,” he teases. “But yeah, he was with us a week ago, handing out the schedule for the rest of the month?”</p><p>Mingi oohs, nodding. He remembers Seoho, carrying in the schedule board folded in four, opening it up and hanging it right at the end of the corridor in the servants quarters. He spoke carefully and with a smile, and made Mingi feel extremely at ease. He had also rushed off as soon as he was done sorting everyone out for the center wing, and Mingi had simply gone on with his day, which meant getting his responsibilities for the west wing and then starting his work day.</p><p>“He’s also the Songbird’s personal maid or something,” San adds. “I think he’s the only one who ever gets sent there to clean up.”</p><p>Mingi nods, and he’s glad that they get busy enough that he can let the conversation die there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There’s a beat of silence, like the room collectively stopped breathing at once, before the music starts again. The curtains draw open to a painted backdrop of a forest in blue hues, and on the center of the stage, Hwanwoong curled up on himself.</p>
<p>He has wings, honest to God wings, white like his outfit and soft and shining under the lights pointed to his stage. He’s hiding behind them, crouched on the ground, as they flutter in time with the drum.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter rating is T for There Is A Panic Attack In Here, procede with caution.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mingi takes to visiting Hwanwoong as often as he can, which really means just a couple times a week, because work keeps him busy, and Hwanwoong is guarded like a secret. He always makes sure he has an excuse to be there, and cleaning the stairs is usually the best one, as he’s apparently the only one who seems happy to do so.</p>
<p>He never manages to stay much, but he really likes those moments anyway. They mostly talk  about the palace and the garden and the people they know. Mingi tells Hwanwoong about San, Wooyoung and Yunho and how they’ve become close friends very easily. Hwanwoong tells Mingi about The Raven - whose real name is apparently Youngjo - and Seoho, and how he never really met anyone else from the staff before.</p>
<p>“That sounds lonely… not even the Lord’s son? I think he’s about your age,” Mingi wonders. He’s sprawled on his back over the plush carpet next to the bed, trying to learn to read one of Hwanwoong’s books with his eyes closed and failing miserably.</p>
<p>“Dongju? I wish. I’ve always liked him.” There’s a small smile spreading on Hwanwoongs lips as he scoots closer to Mingi, legs crossed. “He’s a real brat, but very sweet. He always brings me back trinkets and jewelry whenever he’s allowed to go out with his parents and we have this series of letters we send back and forth through Youngjo-hyung.”</p>
<p>Mingi smiles. “Sounds like a friend to me. That makes three, it’s not that bad!”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong bites his bottom lip, head tilted to the right and downwards, away from Mingi. He’s not wearing a blindfold, the grey sky and a couple of curtains drawn making enough shade that he can go without, but he keeps his eyes mostly closed anyway. Mingi sees the movement of them brush beneath his eyelids and has this weird need to reach out and feel it with his fingertips.</p>
<p>“Are we friends too, Mingi?” Hwanwoong asks, voice small and unsure. He’s worrying his hands over and over, twisting his fingers. “Because I like you and I’m really glad you keep visiting me… it’s been a while since I had this much company.”</p>
<p>Mingi sets the book aside and sits up, turning to face him. He takes Hwanwoong’s hands in his, just so that he would stop tormenting his poor joints, but they’re warm and his fingertips are freezing, so he holds on. “I can be your friend. I like you too, hyung.”</p>
<p>The smile on Hwanwoong’s lips is so big and bright Mingi can’t help feigning being blinded as if looking directly at the sun. It’s exaggerated and a little bit cheesy, but it makes Hwanwoong laugh harder and that’s all that he really wanted.</p>
<p>“I don’t even know how you look, can I see?” Hwanwoong asks, pulling Mingi even closer. He has his hands raised, hovering right in front of Mingi’s face.</p>
<p>“You look like you’re about to choke me.” He jokes, but gives his permission anyway. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong gently places his fingertips over the arch of his cheeks, feather light, before he starts meticulously tracing his features. He feels them moving symmetrically, from the bottom of his jaw to his hairline, brushing over his eyebrows and on the tip of his nose. He closes his eyes when they move across his eyelids, keeping them like that because it feels very relaxing, something between a massage and a caress. </p>
<p>“You’re very pretty, too.” Hwanwoong tells him, light and amused, probably by the look of complete confusion and disbelief when Mingi opens his eyes. Hwanwoong has his own open as well and it’s hard to look away when they look so alien and eerie. </p>
<p>“Bet you say that to every person whose face you’ve touched.” Mingi retorts, because he can feel his cheeks getting warm the more they keep looking at each other, and if this works as intended Hwanwoong will laugh and he will do that cute thing where he covers his mouth and his eyes crinkle close and he’ll be fine.</p>
<p>But Hwanwoong doesn’t laugh. He does close his eyes, probably because they were hurting anyway, and keeps his chin up. “Of course I did. There was you and…” he opens just one eye to watch Mingi’s reaction. “Oh wait, that’s it.”</p>
<p>This time it’s Mingi’s turn to laugh, but unlike Hwanwoong, who’s been raised graceful and lovely, he’s loud and obnoxious. He snorts, trying to keep it down, and that sends them both into a giggle fit.</p>
<p>“I should go.” Mingi says, when he’s got back enough breath. “I think I heard the maids saying Seoho was coming to change your bed.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong whines, pouting, but makes no move to stop him as he stands up and walks to the door. “I’ll see you soon?”</p>
<p>Mingi winks at him. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi goes back to his shared room with a smile, finding that two out of his three roommates are back for the night too. There’s four of them for each room, and he’s been moved in with San, Wooyoung and Yunho, who works the gardens and doesn’t seem to have any sort of decent or set sleeping schedule.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you keep volunteering for the tower stairs, you’re insane.” San says in pout when he answers where he’s been in the afternoon. </p>
<p>“Why, just because there’s so many?” Mingi rolls his eyes, keeps folding his freshly done laundry on his bed. “I’d take those stairs anytime over the dining hall.” He doesn’t own much, none of them does, least of all clothes. They’ve been given pretty uniforms and two pairs of shoes. All he’s kept from the orphanage and the Academy he studied at is a couple books and the only trace of his parents he’s ever owned: a little silver bracelet with his name engraved. </p>
<p>San, gracefully draped over Wooyoung’s back on his bed, groans. “Stars, I hate the snobs so much - do you know how many of us we could feed with what they throw on the ground or leave in their plates?” He moves and kicks to emphasize his point, and Wooyoung underneath whines in sympathy. Or maybe pain.</p>
<p>“And we didn’t even mention the bathrooms.” Mingi cringes at the same time San and Wooyoung do, sucking in a breath through their teeth. </p>
<p>“Fuck the snobs.” San repeats.</p>
<p>“Why did you come here, then?” Mingi wonders, piling his shirts and pants separately and slipping them inside the trunk at the end of his bunk bed. He sees that Yunho, his bunk mate, has yet to do his laundry and makes a mental note to tell him when he comes back.</p>
<p>“Same reason you did, probably,” San replies, shrugging. He slips on one side, so that he can wrap himself around Wooyoung's side and nuzzle into his shoulder. “I was left in a ditch at five and when no one adopted me, the Academy took me in and then sent me out.”</p>
<p>Mingi coos and lies down on the other side of Wooyoung, who’s probably protesting being squeezed between two other bodies, especially Mingi’s, that can barely fit the length of their beds. Mingi’s arms are long enough he can hug San even with Wooyoung in the middle. “I don’t mind it here. I think we got it good.”</p>
<p>“I’ve heard stories about other palaces and lords,” Wooyoung says, having given up on personal space and now cuddling close to both of them. It’s starting to be cold enough that the closeness is much welcomed. “The pay isn’t much, but we’re fed and have a roof over our heads. We get two days off every other month and a whole week every three… I don’t think other servants are treated as well.”</p>
<p>San hums, basically already asleep. It had been a long day for everyone and the thought of having to move back on his own bed wasn’t really appealing to Mingi as well. He settles a bit better, so that he isn’t feeling like he is about to fall on the ground at any moment, and closes his eyes as well.</p>
<p>He dreams of the orphanage and of a little bird, broken and twisted, impaled in the thorns of a blue raspberry bush.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>With autumn and the yellowing of tree leaves comes rain and thunder, and so much mud and dirt. Mingi was supposed to clean the tower stairs today but he’s been stuck at the entrance, helping the lords and guests out of their dirty clothes and into clean ones, and then cleaning up the floor. Rinse and repeat for each person, because <em>of course</em> they couldn’t all come back at the same time.</p>
<p>“Mingi, if you’re done for today, there’s a couple maids sick with the flu and I’ll need you to take their places,” one of the maids working with him says, scrubbing away a nasty brown smudge. </p>
<p>“I still have to clean the tower stairs,” he replies, scrubbing the dirt out of a rag, in the hopes that would make it easier to clean. </p>
<p>The maid waves a hand before dumping clean water over the floor and helping it wash away the worst of the dirt. “Nonsense, you can skip that.” She hands him a broom and a clean rag and motions at him to start scrubbing. “The fucking bird isn’t allowed out till next week and no one’s gonna visit him but Seoho.”</p>
<p>Mingi’s mood turns sour immediately. “That’s not a nice way to speak about someone.”</p>
<p>“Fuck. The. Bird.” The maid says, punctuating her sentence with vigorous swipes of her own broom. “There’s more important shit to worry about than a spoiled freak. The Lady of the palace is coming back soon and if this place isn’t perfect, we're the ones getting beaten. Or better, you will, I’ve been here too long for them to ...”</p>
<p>Mingi tunes out the maid, lets her ranting become white noise, he has no intention to listen to someone so bitter and mean. He finishes cleaning his portion of the entrance and, as soon as they’re done, some other noble comes in, but he’s already dropped all utensils to another servant that was accidentally passing by, and walks away as fast as he can.</p>
<p>He stops by one of the closets where they keep all they need to clean, to get his usual bucket, soap and rag. When he closes the door, though, Seoho’s face appears and he screeches.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I scared you.” Seoho laughs, patting Mingi's arm gently to calm him down. “I was looking for you at the entrance, they told me you ran off.”</p>
<p>“It’s ok, I’m totally fine. Amazing, even.” Mingi replies, still feeling his heart trying to escape the confines of his ribcage. “I was just about to clean the tower stairs. I know it’s late but I got stuck there and-”</p>
<p>“That’s fine, I can do it.” Seoho takes the utensils from his hands and smiles at him. But there’s something slightly off about it that Mingi really can’t place. “San and Wooyoung are already in the kitchens, you work well with them, right? Go help.”</p>
<p>Mingi watches the man disappear behind a corner and can feel the palm of his hands sweat. Does he know he was sneaking up to Hwanwoong room? Is this a gentle way to ask him to cease and desist? Or is he reading too much into a one minute interaction?</p>
<p>“Sir, Seoho - uh - hyung?” Mingi calls, running after him, his shoes echoing in the empty corridors. “Have I done something wrong?”</p>
<p>Seoho turns, and his eyes are so soft Mingi wonders what has happened to others like him to make Seoho have that look now. “No, you’ve been lovely. If you keep at this, we’ll find the perfect work for you soon and you won’t have to run around as much.” He nods to the start of the staircase that ends up right outside Hwanwoong’s room. “Or clean as many stairs.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind cleaning the stairs,” Mingi comments, quietly because he’d rather not expose himself too much. He’s basically one question from Wooyoung away from spilling all the beans he’s keeping about Hwanwoong, and he knows he won’t be able to for someone like Seoho.</p>
<p>“I know. Thank you for that.” Seoho says, but still sends him on his way before taking care of the stairs himself.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There’s a buzz and an energy, like humidity before it rains, that hangs around the servants and seeps into the newbies. Mingi feels it around mid morning, as he’s done cleaning up the common bathrooms - it was technically San’s turn, but they traded places. He keeps to himself and to his work, but his ears work well and by lunchtime he’s approaching his little group of friends with fresh new gossip.</p>
<p>“Did you hear?” They all ask at the same time, as soon as he sits down, squished between San and Yunho. There’s Wooyoung, on the other side of San, and in front of them Hongjoong, Jongho and Keonhee. </p>
<p>Hongjoong is a gardener like Yunho, and they had become friends first and quickly while trimming edges and weeding grass. Yunho one day brought him over to sleep in their room and it has become some sort of habit right away. Jongho works as a butler in the right wing, within the family’s chambers, and answers with a grimace every time anyone asks them how it is, working directly for the lords. Keonhee, bright and cheerful, moves between the gardens and the kitchens, and has seamlessly squirmed his way into their group without anyone really noticing.</p>
<p>“On my side, they say it’s the widowed mother of the Lord coming back to disown her son and give all the inheritance to one of her nephews,” Yunho whispers, Hongjoong nodding along vigorously.</p>
<p>“They say master Dongju is refusing to walk in his father’s footsteps and will be disowned, but that master Dongmyeong is said to rebel if so happens.” Keonhee adds, mouth full around a spoonful of soup.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard,” San interjects, “That it’s the lady of the palace, you know? Master Dongju and Dongmyeong’s mother.” Wooyoung echoes him, words one or two beats behind. San elbows him in the ribs, he retaliates. Keonhee laughs at them, long legs reaching under the table and hitting Mingi in the shins.</p>
<p>“Jongho, do you know what’s happening?” Mingi asks, looking at their youngest. “You must’ve heard something! You basically watch the lords bathe!”</p>
<p>“Please, do not remind me of that.” Jongho says, gagging just at the memory. “But yeah, all I’ve understood is that they’re organizing a party. A big one.” He looks around, leans into the center. They have the table all to themselves, and everyone else in the room is too busy eating to care about them, but they huddle closer anyway to listen.</p>
<p>“I heard the songbird will sing.”</p>
<p>The familiar ghost of a shiver travels down Mingi’s spine, reminded of those few seconds he’d heard a song for himself. He cannot imagine what would happen if a whole room was to listen. It sounds both terrifying and amazing at the same time, but he’s suddenly reminded of the old picture book and now he’s worried for a whole different reason.</p>
<p>“Why is he singing?” he asks, words hissing through his teeth, loud enough to be heard but not found out. “What are the lords planning?”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” Keonhee asks. “The songbird always sings at parties. And family gatherings.”</p>
<p>“Yeah! I’ve not been here long enough to see him yet, but one of the kitchen ladies once told me that he’s an amazing dancer.” San launches into a retelling of the scene, and Mingi tries to picture it, tries to picture giggly, small and precious Hwanwoong all dolled up in pretty clothes and makeup, enchanting the crowd with his body and voice. All he can actually see is him shimming out of beat while Mingi rapped a nursery rhyme two days before. They laughed so hard that they had been heard from outside and Mingi had almost been found out by none other than The Raven himself. He had managed to slip away unnoticed, but had seen Seoho stare at him from afar for the rest of the day.</p>
<p>“But will we not listen?” Mingi insists frowning, still confused. “Won’t we… you know, be influenced or something?”</p>
<p>Six pairs of eyes stare at him, with varying degrees of concern and confusion. He waves his hands between himself and them, in the international sing for you know what I mean! And both Hongjoong and Keonhee sing back with I have no idea, please explain, you’re worrying us. He turns to San, the one who has arrived at the palace before everyone else, hoping for support, but what he finds is his friend staring at him, tongue peeking between his lips.</p>
<p>He’s about to explain, to ask how come no one knows about the raw power the voice of a songbird holds, when the bell that signals the end of their lunch break rings, loud and heavy. The conversation is dropped immediately, forgotten almost as if it never happened, as they all gather their tools and utensils and wave their goodbyes. Mingi should be technically helping out with the laundry again, but asking around brings him to the servant who’s supposed to clean the tower’s stairs. It’s easy to bargain for a swap, to do it only once Seoho is out of sight and to slip away quickly enough so that he won’t be caught by one of his seniors.</p>
<p>The stairs are never that dirty, as there’s only three people, including himself, that use them at any given time, and he’s skipping every other one just to reach the top twice as fast as he usually would.</p>
<p>His whole body deflates, like a punctured balloon, the moment he’s in front of Hwanwoong’s door, hearing laughter and chatter slipping through the cracks of the wood. He doesn’t recognise the other voice at first, having heard it only once before, but with the help of a couple clues in what little words he can make out, he understands that The Raven is inside.</p>
<p>He feels weird lingering, despite knowing he’s done nothing that could get him in trouble. Unless someone learns about the intentions behind his actions. </p>
<p>He thinks too much about what to do. The Raven’s voice looms just behind the door, and Mingi falls to his knees, scrubbing hard at the immaculate marble just as soon as it opens. </p>
<p>Seen from afar, the Raven looks like a black spec of sentient feathers, a creature that could have come out right from a creepy fairy tale. From up close, the Raven is even worse, because you can make out all his features and they consist of big, piercing black eyes, porcelain skin but cheeks flushed of a healthy pink blush, lips either dark red or pitch black, eyes lined with a smudged, dark tint. He looks every bit as intimidating as his names sound, and his voice and cadence don’t help.</p>
<p>“Hello. I don’t think anyone is supposed to be up here but me.” </p>
<p>As Mingi looks up at him, his eyes clearly see Hwanwoong staring in their direction behind the door. He swallows before answering. “Yes, I’m aware. Which is why I decided to come clean now. So that I wouldn’t bother anyone who might need to come later.”</p>
<p>He’s a liar, but the kind of liar that says he’s seen a cat the size of a couch, or that he’s been visited by the angel of orphaned children in his dreams to tell him that he’s going to be adopted on an even day of a spring month without moon. He doesn’t like lying about real things, things that might turn bad. Things that might hurt others. He’s still on the fence about white lies, like telling children about the mice that collects their fallen teeth and leave candy to console them, or telling San that the drawing he scribbled on the corner of Wooyoung’s book does look like a dog and is in no way similar to a head of lettuce. </p>
<p>He doesn’t know what these white lies bring, but he also knows he’s not really lying. He did come here in the hopes he wasn’t running into anyone. It’s the wording that might make it sound like he meant something else.</p>
<p>The Raven squints at him, and there’s this vivid image of a street cat sinking his teeth into a barn mouse right in front of his eyes, crystal clear. “I’ve heard from Seoho that you work well.” The man says, not moving an inch, not closing the door. “You should rest soon, it won’t do us any good if you overexert yourself now, would it?” </p>
<p>Mingi is sure that it’s not a threat and it’s not even meant to sound as one, but he feels threatened anyway. He nods, sitting back on his heels, but avoiding eye contact at all costs. He still sees The Raven smile at the corner of his eyes. He watches the door being closed, the man bowing once before walking downstairs, the long coat making it seem as if he’s floating over the steps. </p>
<p>Mingi is still looking down the stairwell when he hears the door creak. Hwanwoong is looking at him from behind it. He speaks in a whisper. “I’m sorry, I don’t think it’d be wise for you to come in.”</p>
<p>Mingi stands up, walking closer. “It’s ok, don’t worry. I’ll try to come by tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“No good.” Hwanwoong shakes his head. He’s pouting, and all Mingi wants to do is reach out to pinch his cheeks and call him adorable. “I need to prepare. I’m performing at the end of the week. There’s going to be a big party, since Dongju’s mom is coming back, and she’s bringing along- ” he stops mid sentence, a hand on his mouth. “You were almost about to get me in trouble.”</p>
<p>“But I didn’t do anything!” Mingi protests.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong smiles at him. “Sorry… Know that I’d rather spend time with you.”</p>
<p>There’s disappointment, of course, but Mingi understands that there might be more traffic around Hwanwoong than he’s used to, and getting caught, especially after coming so close, would not help either of them.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you after, then,” he says, reaching out to tap one finger on the tip of Hwanwoong’s nose. “Don’t push yourself, okay?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong nods, saying a quick goodbye before retreating back into his chamber. Mingi collects his tools and cleans the steps he had skipped before on his way down, making sure they were spotless. </p>
<p>That night, by some sort of miracle, his roommates are all back around the same hour, still buzzing with the now confirmed party at the end of the week. There still were contrasting rumors about the reason why suddenly they had to work double, but the simple idea of music and food and fun for a day is enough to excite them anyway.</p>
<p>“Jongho is stuck in the right wing,” Yunho slurs around his toothbrush. San is leaning against his back, brushing lazily, already half asleep. “He’s going to sleep in master Dongju’s closet or something.”</p>
<p>Mingi and Wooyoung laugh at the image of Jongho grumply curled over silks and furs, and add a couple more scenarios themselves. “He’s probably going to have to dress him up. Like, from his undergarments to his jacket.” Wooyoung wheezes. “I bet the boy can’t even wipe his ass on his own.”</p>
<p>“Hey, he might be spoiled but he’s not incapable.” Mingi protests, swatting at his friend. “All Jongho probably will have to do is make sure he actually wakes up and eats his greens.”</p>
<p>“And how would you know that?” Wooyoung shoves him, starting one of their silly brawls where one of them usually ends up accidentally smashing their head into an edge.</p>
<p>Yunho manages to separate them all while having San basically glued to his back. “We have a long few days in front of ourselves, let’s go rest,” he says, and promptly is dragged down to Wooyoung’s bed by San, who refuses to let go or answer in any kind of understandable vocalization that isn’t a whine. Wooyoung stares, standing at the front of his bed with a betrayed expression, before climbing up to Yunho’s bed.</p>
<p>Mingi kicks him from the bottom. “Hey, I found out why the party is happening,” he says, and Wooyoung’s head appears upside down right beside him. He’s spooked into a scream, sitting up so fast he hits his head first into the frame of the top bunk, and then on the wall. He curls up pathetically, as Yunho glares at him like a disappointed mother from the confines of San’s arms on the other side of the room.</p>
<p>He sighs as the pain subsides, rolling on his side. “Master Dongju’s mother is coming back. She’s bringing someone along. I don’t know who, but I think they’re holding the party for them.”</p>
<p>“Who told you?” Wooyoung asks, dangerously leaning almost halfway down. Yunho tries to swat at him from where he is, but even if he’s just as long as Mingi, he can’t reach, so he resorts to hissing at Wooyoung to get back up, for fuck’s sake.</p>
<p>“A little birdie…” Mingi sing-songs, and he gauges the reaction of the room. They seem to have completely missed his clue, groaning and whining trying to ask him again.</p>
<p>He wants to tell them about Hwanwoong, how he sneaks out into his room to read books with his eyes closed, and hear him mock The Raven and Seoho’s reprimands in funny voices. He wants to tell them that the songbird is Dongju’s friend, and that’s why he knows the Lord's son doesn’t resemble his father one bit, and is kind and gentle, even if spoiled. He wants to ask them if they think he’s pretty like Hwanwoong has told him a few times now. </p>
<p>But he’s scared they won’t like it, that they will tell him to stop seeing him. That they will snitch him out to Seoho.</p>
<p>“I heard it from someone while I was cleaning.” He finally caves and coffesses. Not a lie, not a complete truth either, but it seems enough to quench their thirst for answers, and they move on to another topic, everyone curled up in bed, chatting quietly until one by one fall asleep.</p>
<p>Before he’s fully unconscious, Mingi hears Yunho call for him. “Psst, Mingi,” he whispers, so quietly the only reason he can hear it it’s because there are no other sounds now except the gentle breathing of Wooyoung and San. “Have you heard anything about the songbird?”</p>
<p>“He’s gonna perform,” Mingi yawns into his pillow, too far gone to filter. “I hope I get to see him. I wonder how pretty he’s going to be.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their usual uniforms are pretty plain, black shirts with wide sleeves and beige dress pants, shiny black shoes. They’re still much prettier and fancier than any clothes he’s ever seen in his life already, and he wasn’t at all ready when Seoho walked in their room with two new ones, carefully folded over his arm.</p>
<p>“San, Mingi,” he says, with a big smile. “You’ll be at the party, serving.”</p>
<p>Said party is apparently a welcoming back celebration for the Lady of the palace, but all servants have already been taught a couple of faces and names of nobles coming from the neighbouring country. They are told they are close friends with the Lord too, but everyone has been drawing their own conclusions that range between lovers long lost to butal business negotiations.</p>
<p>Or both.</p>
<p>Big preparations are being made, San and Wooyoung barely leaving the kitchens and Yunho staying out working the whole day, coming back in their room just to pass out immediately. Mingi himself has been running around the palace cleaning and fixing and tidying, and has barely managed to visit Hwanwoong at all.</p>
<p>“Wait, what? Why only us?” San asks in pout, as he pats down his uniform. </p>
<p>They’re similar to the ones they already own, but are made of satin and lined with silver thread and full of appliqués and little chains, shiny and pretty. The shoes they’re given are shiny black and there’s also a set of matching earrings, necklaces and rings for both of them.</p>
<p>“Because I need someone trustworthy in the ballroom and Hongjoong and Yunho have already been assigned their posts in the gardens,” Seoho explains, sighing. He seems very irritated by this and both San and Mingi feign extreme offence. At least Mingi’s is feign, he can’t really tell if San’s acting or not.</p>
<p>“You’ll need to be ready at eleven in the morning, the party starts at one in the afternoon and will end sometime around four. If we’re lucky.” Seoho goes on to instruct them about some of the most basic stuff, as they will be given further instructions before the party itself. “All clear?”</p>
<p>“Crystal,” Mingi and San say at the same time, nodding. </p>
<p>Seoho pinches their cheeks before walking out, already set on the next person he needs to manage. </p>
<p>“Oh yeah, let’s go with the fact that only Yunho and Hongjoong are good, next best you two.” Wooyoung whines from his place on the bed. “Wooyoung’s not good enough.”</p>
<p>“You’re the head chef,” San reminds him, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but that doesn’t give me fancy uniforms or lets me see the Songbird,” Wooyoung points out.</p>
<p>Mingi smiles at the thought, setting his uniform on a hanger by his bed. He wonders what the show will be about, what kind of costume Hwanwoong will be dressed in. He’s only seen a show once, when a travelling artists company had stopped near his orphanage for a couple weeks. “Have you ever seen the Songbird sing?”</p>
<p>“No, and I’ve heard that it’s extremely rare they let the servants see him, anyway,” San says, sitting cross legged beside Wooyoung. “But the older maids have told me that sometimes you can hear him sing. His voice is so soft and pretty you feel like it took half of your weight off.”</p>
<p>Mingi nods along. “It is really pretty. He has the sweetest voice…”</p>
<p>Both his friends turn, in sync, to look at him. Blink twice. “What?”</p>
<p>Mingi coughs a bit, keeps patting his uniform to avoid looking at them. “I clean the stairs up to his room, I hear him sing through his door often.” he half lies, trying his best to keep himself from smiling too hard. “His voice is soft and light, and the way he sings makes you feel all the things…”</p>
<p>San is immediately at Mingi’s right, wrapping himself around him, Wooyoung on his left, wrapping his hand around his bicep. “You’ve already heard the Songbird sing and you never told us?!” they say, pouting and shaking him. “Tell us more! Did you ever see him?”</p>
<p>Mingi ponders. He’d love to tell them everything, gush and squee and whisper and whine about Hwanwoong and his smile and his laugh and his eyes and his voice. He would love to have someone on his side, knowing he’s sneaking into his room to pass time with him, and that it makes him feel so happy and at ease. But he also worries that if he tells them they’ll eventually get in trouble, and him too. Not that he doesn’t trust San and Wooyoung with his secrets, on the contrary, but in places like these, even the walls have ears.</p>
<p>It was something one of the teachers at the Academy always told him to watch out for, when in service in a noble house.</p>
<p>He was a man in his forties, with a heavy limp and a black wood cane to compensate for it, going by the name of Min Yoongi. “The walls and floors have ears,” he would say, “so if you hear secrets, or if you have them, keep them to yourself. Sell them only if you know what will happen to you and to those who hear them.”</p>
<p>Mingi doesn’t know what will happen if he tells San and Wooyoung he probably has a big fat crush on the Songbird and that he’s been sneaking into his room, probably risking his job and life.</p>
<p>“Once,” he says, whispering, as his friends crowd him closer. “He was going downstairs, accompanied by Seoho. He had a full black suit and a pretty lace bow in place of his tie with a silver bell. His hair was brushed back effortlessly, and he had silver earrings and rings.” He points to his eyes, blinking, “He had a lace blindfold on, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I’ve heard they’re so pale, they’re almost white.”</p>
<p>San and Wooyoung gasp and aww at him, then try to pry more information from him. Mingi is impervious to their puppy eyes and perfect please, feigns ignorance and refuses to answer anything. He’s saved from being literally mobbed when Yunho walks back into their room. He’s dirty and tired, barely managing to stand up. He looks at them confused, Mingi halfway into the bottom bunk, San holding onto one of his legs and Wooyoung threatening him with a broken pencil.</p>
<p>“I don’t even want to know,” he says, falling on top of all three of them.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There’s a beat of silence, like the room collectively stopped breathing at once, before the music starts again. The curtains draw open to a painted backdrop of a forest in blue hues, and on the center of the stage, Hwanwoong curled up on himself.</p>
<p>He has wings, honest to God wings, white like his outfit and soft and shining under the lights pointed to his stage. He’s hiding behind them, crouched on the ground, as they flutter in time with the drum, and then he’s slowly rising to his bare feet, moving them so naturally that it takes Mingi a whole minute to see they’re props and his friend had not, in fact, magically grown a set. </p>
<p>He’s dressed in tight, white leather leggings, with cutouts on his tights and black trim all around the edges, hooked at the sole of his feet, but leaving his heel and toes out,  a white shirt, puffy sleeves that gathered tightly around his wrist and shoulders, ruffles over his chest, made of a material so light it’s almost transparent, a white collar made of leather, diamonds dotted all around it and a silver bell sitting prettily in the middle, and a lace blindfold, the pattern pretty and intricate, woven to resemble feathers. His lips have a bright red tint, while his cheeks seem dusted with sparkles.</p>
<p> He’s stunning, beautiful in more ways than one as he moves over the stage with grace and strength, his body line one with the wings he moves as if he really had them since forever. </p>
<p>Mingi forgets the world. He stands, jaw dropped to the ground, tray of empty plates in his hands, no sounds but the music in his head as his eyes are glued to every shape and line Hwanwoong draws into the empty as he moves. And then, as he’s nudged by San, hissing at him something he’s not lucid enough to comprehend.</p>
<p>Then.</p>
<p>Then Hwanwoong sings.</p>
<p>The clear, beautiful, sweet sound of his voice cuts through the room just like the wings of a bird through the wind. Mingi can feel the shivers down to his bones as static fills the air and makes it hard to breathe. He can’t understand the song, it’s not for him to listen, this he knows. Just one quick look around the room, and the true targets stand out easily among the guests, their eyes wide open, unblinking, their posture rigid and tense. </p>
<p>The music swells and the pressure in the room drops, enough that Mingi’s ears start ringing so hard it hurts. He winches, handing his tray to someone that was pulling it out of his hands. When he looks back up to the stage, Hwanwoong is standing up on his tiptoes, wings spread out and head thrown back. There’s a blow of the drum and no more music. It takes a beat for the room to erupt into cheers, loud and overwhelming, a cacophony of shouts and compliments, of pleas for an encore. Hwanwoong seems completely deaf to them, chest heaving as he bows thrice before disappearing behind the curtains.</p>
<p>It’s just a moment, barely a second, but Mingi sees him limp, and an ugly feeling claws up his back, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand and his stomach drop to his knees.</p>
<p>He doesn't even know how he manages to avoid every single person that would keep him in his place, doesn’t know how he manages to find the right room, nor how there’s not a person in sight as he enters it.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong is on the ground, kneeling and sobbing into his hands. He’s still dressed in his costume, but his hair is a mess and his cheeks are red. There’s snot from his nose and tears down his cheeks and clinging to the lace still wrapped around his eyes. Mingi kneels beside him, gently and quietly, like he’s trying not to spook a frightened critter. Hwanwoong’s head snaps up immediately, and his eyes are wide open underneath the lace. They look terrified for only a second, before softening. </p>
<p>“I fucked up,” he wails, words barely getting out properly by how much he’s sobbing and hiccupping. “I fucked up so bad, they’re going to be so mad.”</p>
<p>Mingi doesn’t really know what to say or how to act. His hands are hovering awkwardly around Hwanwoong’s face, trembling. He wants to calm him down, to tell him it’s okay, that he couldn’t even see whatever mistake he thinks he’s made, that he was amazing and perfect and beautiful. But his brain is fried, still from the performance and from seeing Hwanwoong in distress, and all he manages to get out is a weak, “You were stunning.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong cries even harder at that, and throws himself right into Mingi’s chest. Mingi immediately wraps his arms around him, chin over his head as he rocks him slowly. He whispers praises into his hair, how good he was and how beautiful he looked, how everyone couldn’t tear their eyes from him and how strong his voice was. He doesn’t know how long it takes, for the sobs to calm down and for Hwanwoong to stop shaking, but by that time, Hwanwoong is curled in his lap and his tears have soaked through Mingi’s shirt.</p>
<p>“You can’t be here.” Hwanwoong says, voice rough and still weak. “If they find you here they’ll beat you, and then me.”</p>
<p>Mingi makes no move to leave, and Hwanwoong makes no move to let him go.</p>
<p>He pulls back, just enough that he can look at Hwanwoong’s face, just enough so that he can take off the soaked blindfold and cup his cheeks in his hands. “You’re beautiful.” He tells him, thumbs wiping away the wetness left from his tears. “The most beautiful.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong lets out one single sob, but his lips are curved in a smile and his eyes, his beautiful, stunning eyes, so light they’re almost white now, are filled with light.</p>
<p>“Go,” he tells Mingi softly. “Go,” he repeats, pushing weakly at his chest. Mingi wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him up to his feet with himself and lays him down on the only chair in the room. “Please, go,” Hwanwoong says again, drained and tired, as Mingi kisses his forehead.</p>
<p>Mingi disappears, just in time before The Raven and Seoho arrive. It takes him three times to find his way back to where he’s supposed to be, in the kitchens cleaning up the aftermath of the party. </p>
<p>“Where the fuck have you been?!” San hisses through his teeth the moment he sees him, swatting at his arms. “You freaked us out!”</p>
<p>Mingi has the decency to look mortified, and takes the pile of dishes San was carrying from his hands. “What happened?” He hears Wooyoung ask behind him, turning awkwardly, feeling like he can barely control his limbs.</p>
<p>He blinks, looking down at his shirt. It’s not only wet where Hwanwoong had buried his head to cry, it’s also crumpled and stretched, half untucked from his pants. There’s a big copper pot right behind Wooyoung and even from the crappy and distorted reflection, he can see his hair is a mess and his face is no better.</p>
<p>“I…” he tries to reply, but his mouth tastes like sandpaper. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>San and Wooyoung, now next to each other, push him until the back of his thighs hit a flat surface. He sits on it, placing the plates beside himself. “Mingi, are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”</p>
<p>“No,” he replies immediately, because there’s an increasing panic building in their eyes and the last thing he wants is for his friends to worry. “It was just… I don’t really know what happened. I’m okay. No one hurt me. I’m just a bit shaken.”</p>
<p>The two exchange a look, and he smiles. He knows it’s not as big as his usual ones, not as wide or as bright, he knows his hands are still shaking, but he can see that they believe him. San pulls him in a hug, tight and warm, and Mingi reciprocates immediately.</p>
<p>“You know you can tell us if something is happening, right?” San murmurs into his neck.</p>
<p>“I know,” he murmurs back, before one of the kitchen ladies calls them and he slips back into his usual self as easily as he can make his way to the top of the tower.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi wakes up warm and sore. He barely remembers how he got back to his room, let alone in his bed. There’s a weight over his chest and, when his eyelids finally don’t feel like lead anymore, he can see that it’s just San, wrapped tightly around him.</p>
<p>“Morning...” Yunho murmurs. He’s half dressed, crouched to be eye level with him. He reaches over San to ruffle Mingi’s hair. “If you get up now you’ll still be able to have breakfast.”</p>
<p>Mingi nods, and when he sits up San whines and tries to cuddle closer to his side. “He was very worried, you know?” Yunho says, standing up and going back to get dressed. “So was I, I never saw you so out of it.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. Something happened.” Mingi replies, gently moving San to take his warm spot on the bed, tucking him in. “I… I can’t tell you.”</p>
<p>“As long as you’re safe.” Yunho says, gentle as ever. “I have free range of the gardening utensils, if there’s ever the need to bury a body.”</p>
<p>Mingi laughs, hands over his mouth to not make too much sound. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>He takes longer than usual to get ready, the exhaustion brought by the previous day still coursing through his limbs. San sticks to his side for the most part of the morning, glued to his arm: it takes Wooyoung and two kitchen maids to untangle him and, even then, Mingi can only slip away when San is too busy to notice.</p>
<p>In theory, he should be worrying about finishing cleaning up what is left of the mess of the party, but his feet move on their own and carry him up eight flights of stairs to the top of the tower. He once again pushes to the back of his mind the idea that he’s been far too lucky to have not run into anyone until now and that said luck is going to run out very soon, and places his ear over the smooth, cold surface of Hwanwoong’s door. When silence answers, he knocks softly and lets himself in, closing the door behind him. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong is curled up in bed, looking so small it hurts, comforter drawn up so that only the top of his head, blond hair messy against the dark pillows, is visible. There’s another blanket on top and yet another one folded at his feet - and Mingi wonders just how cold it gets in the winter in a room made of windows.</p>
<p>Mingi takes off his shoes when he’s on the rug, so that at least his feet won’t freeze against the marble. “Hyung?” he calls softly, as Hwanwoong hasn’t moved a bit yet. There’s a little sound coming from under the covers, and then the hem is pulled back.</p>
<p>Mingi doesn’t waste time climbing under and pulling the covers back up. Hwanwoong is curled tightly on himself, clad in what looks like silk pajamas, but he’s looking at Mingi at least. His eyes are red rimmed and tired, dark circles underneath. Mingi scoots closer and Hwanwoong comes easily into his arms, holding on tightly, head buried in his chest. He shivers a bit, from the cold that is getting in as they move the covers, and he almost burns against Mingi, he’s so warm. </p>
<p>They fall in and out of sleep for a while, until it’s too much sleep for both of them and they just stay there, breathing softly. Mingi is the one who breaks the quiet.</p>
<p>“Did you get hurt?” he asks, trying to speak as softly as he can, which half works. His voice is deep and rough as he still hasn't used it much. </p>
<p>“I sprained my ankle, it’s a bit swollen.” Hwanwoong answers, and he shuffles his shin closer to Mingi, who throws a leg over his hip, just to be that bit closer. Hwanwoong buries his nose in his neck. “I sang for you yesterday.”</p>
<p>Mingi stops at that, blinking. He tries to pull back and look at Hwanwoong's face but he holds on tighter and keeps his face against the crook of his neck. “What?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t even notice, I was just so scared and- and I panicked.” Hwanwoong explains and Mingi can only hear him because it’s quiet, as he’s speaking in a whisper. “I sang for you to come, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be.” Mingi murmurs, into his hair, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him on top of himself. “I’m glad you did. I think it’s how I found you first, and no one found me.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong sucks in a breath and it’s broken on a sob. “I could’ve gotten you in so much trouble.”</p>
<p>“I would’ve come anyway, even if you didn’t sing,” Mingi tells him, and there’s a long, drawn out whine coming from the boy in his arms that makes him laugh. </p>
<p>Mingi wants to kiss Hwanwoong.</p>
<p>He thinks he’s been wanting to kiss him for a while, but the feeling is so overwhelming now, while they’re both warm and loose and cuddled together. He doesn’t know if it’s the song still in his system that makes it so strong, that made him find his way up the tower so early and so carelessly. And he doesn’t want to kiss him under the influence of the power Hwanwoong holds. Even if, maybe, it means that Hwanwoong wants to be kissed by him, too.</p>
<p>“Does your ankle hurt?” Mingi asks instead, his hands rubbing slowly up and down Hwanwoong lower back. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong shakes his head right into his chest. “Not really. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.” He digs his chin into Mingi’s chest, looks up at him. He looks less tired, more like himself. </p>
<p>Mingi really wants to kiss him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mingi feels a strange pull at the pit of his stomach, like someone had hooked a rope to it and tugged. He turns on instinct and his eyes go immediately up and to the windows of the top of the tower. He can’t see anything beyond them, being too far away and due to the reflection of the sky on them, but he knows who’s pulling at his heartstrings, quite literally. He rubs the heel of his palm against the spot, and gets back to work.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please mind that in this chapter there are mentions of phisical punishment and abuse, and some behaviours that are akin to self-harm, take care when reading.</p><p>Tags have been updated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seoho is standing over him, hands on his chest and a gentle, even if a bit sad, look on his face. It takes Mingi a while to realize he’s fallen asleep again, with Hwanwoong over him.</p><p>He can imagine what kind of face he makes, as he’s fully woken by the panic of being found out, that makes Seoho laugh into the palm of his hand. He puts a finger over his lips, telling Mingi to be quiet, mouthing that Hwanwoong is still sleeping.</p><p>Mingi thinks he will be, at the very least, reprimanded. He is sure that Seoho will have him kicked out. Quietly, maybe, to avoid disturbing Hwanwoong. But kicked out nonetheless.</p><p>“You should come back to work, at some point. Okay?” Seoho whispers to him, once he’s done shuffling around the room, probably cleaning and tidying up. He has opened up a couple curtains, strategically so that light can come through but not enough to hurt Hwanwoong’s eyes too much. “I can’t hold off Youngjo hyung forever.”</p><p>“Is Hwanwoong in trouble?” Mingi asks, trying to make as little sound as possible, as he’s feeling Hwanwoong stir. </p><p>Seoho bites his lips. “He’ll be okay.” Is all he says, but even to Mingi’s ears it doesn’t sound very convincing.</p><p>Hwanwoong wakes up when the door closes, blinking sleep out his eyes. Mingi brushes a hand through his hair, and tries to hold off, to not get closer, for as much as Hwanwoong’s face is just there, his lips pouting just away from his own. They look at each other, and Mingi thinks that Hwanwoong wants to kiss him too.</p><p>But the moment passes, and Hwanwoong places his lips on Mingi’s neck to blow the loudest raspberry he’s ever heard.</p><p>It makes Mingi laugh, loud and free, tickles him enough he almost throws Hwanwoong off. He rolls away, lies down by his side and untucks Mingi’s shirt to blow against his belly as well.</p><p>“I yield! I yield!” Mingi wheezes, curling up on his side to protect the exposed skin of his stomach. Hwanwoong sticks his tongue out, but he’s pink in the cheeks and smiling just as hard.</p><p>“Is this weird for you?” Hwanwoong asks, as he crawls back into Mingi’s embrace, locking their ankles together. Mingi’s arms automatically wrap around him.</p><p>Mingi shakes his head. Sharing a room with San meant he got used to skinship very quickly, to the point that it now feels weird if the four of them aren’t touching in one way or another. Especially during sleep, as San - and sometimes Yunho too - most of the time are never in their own bed. </p><p>It doesn’t feel as different, with Hwanwoong now, more like it was a long time coming. But there’s something else too, something more, as he nuzzles into his hair and squeezes him gently.</p><p>“Only Seoho-hyung and Youngjo-hyung hug me. Sometimes.” Hwanwoong says. </p><p>“Is this weird for you?” Mingi echoes, imagining the answer by the way Hwanwoong hasn’t let go of him since he’s slipped inside his bed.</p><p>“It’s… different. Good,” Hwanwoong replies. “I’ll miss it when you’ll be away.”</p><p>“I’ll come back to hug you,” Mingi tells him, and he gives in just a bit, just like the night before, kissing Hwanwoong’s forehead. “I promise.”</p><p>---</p><p>Mingi sees Seoho outside the kitchens later in the afternoon, after he has left Hwanwoong to sleep a bit more and made his way back downstairs as quickly as he could. He waves at him, receiving a smile in return.</p><p>“Where have you been all morning?” San asks, furrowing his brows and fussing over him as soon as he steps in. He’s tugging at his clothes, smoothing the creases and fixing his cuffs, all while muttering under his breath how much he’s been worried lately.</p><p>Mingi pulls him in a hug. “I was in the west wing,” he replies, biting his tongue to avoid talking about Hwanwoong and never stopping, probably. “How can I help?”</p><p>“We made lunch for the gardeners,” Wooyoung interjects, swatting at his arm, gesticulating ‘you made me worry too’ into the air. “I’m leaving you an extra in case you wanna eat with them.”</p><p>The gardens surround the palace completely and are big enough to hold the servants quarters and a fancy pond with a gazebo and still have so much green between them. Mingi has been walking around for almost an hour, trying to locate all the gardeners scattered around.</p><p>He finds Hongjoong in a rose bush, as in curled up underneath. Mingi bends down to look at him in between an opening in the branches. “I brought lunch.”</p><p>“Oh! Thank you, slide it in!” Hongjoong says with a bright smile. He takes off one of his long gloves and slip his hand through between the branches. Mingi awkwardly hands him the sandwich and bids him goodbye. He’s not even made two steps away, having set his eyes on a distant figure that vaguely resembles Yunho, that a hand sets on his back and a body pushes at his side, steering him onto another path.</p><p>The Raven up close looks unreal, especially as he’s wearing his fluffy feathered collar coat again and his eyes are lined with black, lips tinted almost as dark. He’s not looking at Mingi, and Mingi doesn’t really know what to do with himself besides falling in step, bag with the rest of the sandwiches held tightly against his chest.</p><p>“The way I see it, I think you’re too naive to have malicious intentions,” The Raven speaks, calm and collected, as if they’re talking about the weather. Maybe they are, Mingi doesn’t really know. “But I don’t think you’re stupid enough to not realize that what you’re doing is, for a lack of better phrasing at the moment, bad.”</p><p>“Oh,” Mingi mouths, blinking at the man beside him. He’s been trying to wiggle away, but the grip on his waist is solid.</p><p>“Don’t get me wrong - I haven’t seen Woongie this happy in a long while, and I’ve been trying to get permission for more people to interact with him ever since I arrived at the palace,” he continues, trying to sound nonchalant, even if there’s a heavy note of concern and worry that underlines all his words. “But that is, unfortunately, impossible, and this little game you’ve been playing has lasted so long it has almost reached the family, and we don’t want that, do we?”</p><p>“It’s not a game. Hwanwoong is my friend.” Mingi replies, offended for the both of them. He digs his feet into the ground, refusing to keep walking, wanting to look at The Raven in the eyes, no matter how intimidating he is. </p><p>“That is lovely and all, but you must know by now that it’s getting out of hand.” The Ravn sighs with his whole body. It’s unsettling, the way the feathers look like they’re breathing with him. “You can’t keep seeing him so freely and hope to get away with it every single time. You don’t have that luxury, and neither does he.”</p><p>There’s a lot of things Mingi wants to say, and even more he wants to ask. He wonders why Hwanwoong is kept like a caged bird, on display for everyone to see, but for no one to touch. Why, if his eyes are weak and hurt, his room is made of glass that lets in all the light. Why he seems to be just fine with that, why he doesn’t question it one bit, who told him that all of this was okay. He wants to ask why, if The Raven is such a good friend and Seoho seems to care so much too, they’re not doing anything to help Hwanwoong out of there. He almost does, opens his mouth to voice just that, when the eyes of The Raven turn dark and cold, his whole posture changes, he straightens his back and squares his shoulders, looking effectively twice as big. It’s no wonder the Lords keep him as an ambassador and mediator.</p><p>“You don’t know how long it took me to get Hwanwoong this comfortable, you don’t know where he would’ve been if it wasn’t for me, and I would very much like for you to not ruin a life’s work.” The Raven speaks slowly, enunciating each word perfectly. “You’re lucky it was Seoho finding you.”</p><p>Mingi stares back, stuck in place, knuckles white as he grips his bag as tightly as he can. He wants to protest, stomp his feet and throw a tantrum, tell him that he doesn’t care about anything, that he likes Hwanwoong and wants to see him whenever he wants to. He feels filled with a childish kind of anger, like back in the orphanage when he got blamed for things he didn’t do, while the culprit ran free and stayed happy, feels it wet his eyes and redden his cheeks. He must look silly, such an oversized child.</p><p>“If you care about him as much as I think you do, I just ask you to think carefully about what you’re doing,” The Raven says, reaching out to put his hand on Mingi’s shoulder. It’s a heavy weight and it burns like a brand, but Mingi bears it and lets himself be led once again.</p><p>They arrive at the lake. Under the gazebo, with red hair and a perfectly tailored, sleek light blue suit, there’s a boy curled up on the couch. He doesn’t look older than twenty and is very pale, the kind that comes with not being out in the sun enough. He’s writing what looks like a letter on a wooden board, precariously perched on his knees, as he talks and laughs with Jongho, who’s standing right beside him.</p><p>Mingi tries not to laugh, because he’s used to seeing Jongho in oversized sweaters and worn shirts, while now he’s all dressed up in a black velvet frac, perfectly white frilled shirt, tan trousers and knee high boots. He can see Jongho’s eye twitch even from there.</p><p>The Raven bows down deeply to the boy as Jongho bows to them, and Mingi rushes to do the same. </p><p>“That’s Dongju.” The Raven tells him, as he stands back up and starts walking back from where they came from. Mingi follows. “He’s been asking about you, I hear.”</p><p>“He’s Hwanwoong’s friend, isn’t he?” Mingi mutters. The Raven’s expression stays impassive, but the corner of one of his eyes twitches.</p><p>“It’s not a bad life, Mingi,” The Raven says, without looking back. “It’s not his fault there’s nothing more he can wish for.”</p><p>---</p><p>Mingi doesn’t stop working for two weeks straight.</p><p>They get swamped with the most diverse tasks, and since he has enthusiastically confirmed he’d be oh so glad to work wherever he’s needed, he’s never in the same place twice two days in a row. He actually spends most of the time outside, in the cold and wet, with the gardeners who are preparing the garden for the winter.</p><p>“Everything will be dead and asleep, but it has to still be pretty,” Yunho tells him between his clattering teeth. No matter how much they bundled up to be outside, there’s a strong wind blowing that pushes the cold deep into their bones. Mingi is carrying along plants and dirt, while Yunho takes care of the actual planting and trimming. </p><p>“Pretty for who? The lords are going to be stuck inside in front of the fireplace in their wing and no one’s set to visit,” Mingi replies, crouched down in a ball in the hopes to retain as much heat as possible. “No one would be stupid enough to travel during winter anyway.” Yunho makes A Face, that Mingi mirrors right back because, yes, he knows there would be people dumb enough to travel during winter if it ment getting power or money out of it.</p><p>Yunho asks him for help with a big tree that has been living in a vase for far too long, when Mingi feels a strange pull at the pit of his stomach, like someone had hooked a rope to it and tugged. He turns on instinct and his eyes go immediately up and to the windows of the top of the tower. He can’t see anything beyond them, being too far away and due to the reflection of the sky on them, but he knows who’s pulling at his heartstrings, quite literally. He rubs the heel of his palm against the spot, and gets back to work. He chats with Yunho, who has a lot of gossip about all the other friends he doesn’t see that much, especially Jongho, now stuck perennially to Dongju’s side.</p><p>There’s another tug, stronger this time, and it physically makes Mingi trip on his own feet, almost dropping the two bags of dirt he is carrying for Yunho. His head snaps immediately to the tower, and this time it’s harder to tear his eyes away, to get back to work. His limbs feel like they’re moving underwater and his chest is starting to feel too heavy to breath properly. When Yunho asks, he blames it on the cold, but the third tug is even stronger and this time dread fills his veins and travels down his spine in a shiver, as he feels the connection strain and then abruptly be cut clean. He falls face first into the ground, catching himself in a bush. </p><p>“Mingi!” Yunho calls, pulling him back up and tugging at his arms. There’s a clean cut down the side of his wrist, and some smaller ones, pink and mild, around his hand, but nothing really serious. “It’s too fucking cold, we’re calling it a day - we’re gonna sit our asses in front of the kitchen fire and that’s it.”</p><p>Mingi nods, mostly because he doesn’t have the mental capacity to speak yet. There’s a void now where the tug was, where the dread had pushed and swelled, something that makes him sweat cold and his throat dry up. He feels like he should be panicking, but isn’t. And it’s freaking him out much more than if he was actually panicking.</p><p>They’re welcomed in the kitchens, finding Hongjoong having had their same idea, wrapped up in a blanket and sitting by the big fire, where they used to grill and cook the meals, but that is now used simply to warm up the room. His ears, nose and cheeks are a healthy pink, but probably looked as red as Yunho and Mingi’s do as they trade their cold coats for a blanket, their shoes for a pair of fuzzy socks and their gloves for a cup of warm tea.</p><p>Mingi is still uneasy, and it only gets worse as he sees Seoho peek into the kitchen to ask something from one of the maids, and when he meets Mingi’s eyes, a series of emotions flash quickly on his face.</p><p>Surprise.</p><p>Sympathy.</p><p>Apology.</p><p>The tea burns down his throat as he chugs it down, just to feel something else that isn’t aborted panic. </p><p>“Would you like cinnamon cookies?” San asks from his workspace “The first batch should be done in a bit, and we usually don’t really do much with it.”</p><p>“Oh, please!” Hongjoong begs, eyes big and lips in a pout. “I haven’t eaten cookies in years.” </p><p>“That’s sad.” Yunho comments. Wooyoung mutters something along the lines of ‘no one was lucky enough to still have half a parents’, but too quietly for it to be actually addressed.</p><p>“Can I have some more? I want to bring them to, uh, Keonhee.” Mingi says, and it sounds like a lie to his ears, probably because it’s the first time he’s telling one without actually believing it in the first place.</p><p>San claps his hands enthusiastically, saying he’s gonna wrap up some for Jongho as well. There’s only Yunho looking at him with a questioning look, and only years of practiced bullshitting help him react fast enough to not be suspicious. “I need to get to the maid’s chambers anyway to help them out and he said he’s working there.”</p><p>Mingi does keep his words, only because he did go to the foot of the stairwell that curls up toward Hwanwoong’s room, but there has been something heavy in the air, thick like ink, bearing down on his shoulder and making him turn and walk away. The trip becomes much longer than expected, as he does end up helping around - after an enthusiastic hug session as a way of thanks from Keonhee. The boy keeps talking to him with his mouth half full with cookies, and it helps distract him, even if just a bit.</p><p>It’s nighttime when he finally tries to make his way back towards his chambers, but he takes a right instead of a left, goes one floor up instead of down, and before he knows it he’s making it through the last steps to the top of the tower. He’s never been in the palace past his curfew, and he knows he would barely make it out in time for curfew  if he lingers too much, but he doesn’t feel like letting his worries turn his stomach into knots more than they’ve already been doing.</p><p>So he knocks, softly, pressing his hand flat against the door as if he was trying to feel its heartbeat. Silence answers him, and he steps in quietly.</p><p>The first thing he notices is Hwanwoong’s lace collar, bows and frills and silver bell too, carelessly thrown on the ground. It looks like a tangled snake and for a moment Mingi expected it to move and bite him.</p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>Hwanwoong’s voice is cold and broken, and it’s scary. Because he’s never heard someone sound so hurt.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Mingi murmurs, stepping to the bed. He falls to his knees as Hwanwoong sits up. His silk pajama is crumpled and uncharacteristically shabby, buttons undone at the neck.</p><p>“I saw you in the gardens. I called for you, but you didn’t come.” He goes on, moving to the edge of the bed, in front of Mingi. </p><p>He sits down then, bows his head on Hwanwoong’s knees and holds the hand that reaches out. Hwanwoong is so cold now, such a sharp contrast from the last time he held him, and it’s not until he rubs his tears over the leg that he feels something underneath. Mingi blinks his eyes open and finally looks.</p><p>Hwanwoong has bandages over his hands and wrapped around the top of his thighs. His head snaps up and, when he looks into Hwanwoong’s eyes, he sees a memory, as clear as day, when one of the children back at the orphanage had misbehaved, and one of the women that volunteered there had bent her over her knee and spanked the back of her legs. It’s such a specific, forgotten memory, that Mingi doesn’t believe even for a moment it has nothing to do with the state of Hwanwoong’s body at the moment.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.” Mingi repeats, this time right into the soft fabric that covers Hwanwoong’s belly, as he tries to crawl over him, to make himself small and curl in his lap, cry into Hwanwoong’s hands as they cup his face.</p><p>Hwanwoong bends down, hugs him back in the awkward position they’ve found each other in, speaks right into his hair. “The Lord didn’t like that I was calling someone, that I even had someone to call; but because no one came, he didn’t seem to care too much in the end. He had enough to reprimand me for anyway,” he says, and something twists even tighter inside of Mingi, burns his lungs with acid and fills his stomach with stones. </p><p>He finally crawls up on the bed, lets himself fall on top of Hwanwoong so that they’re both laying down, legs tangled. When he holds Hwanwoong, he feels patches under his nightshirt, high on his back and it makes him apologise again.</p><p>“You can’t be here.” Hwanwoong tells him, once they’ve both finished to cry into each other’s shoulders,  shirts wet and gross with tears and snot. Hwanwoong’s body has warmed up in Mingi’s embrace, and the latter doesn’t want to let go. Possibly ever.</p><p>“You’re pretty even when you cry,” Hwanwoong whispers when Mingi makes no move, fingers wiping gently away the traces of his tears on his cheeks. “It’s so sad that the first time I see you clearly, we’re both like this.”</p><p>“Woongie, this is not normal,” Mingi tells him. “They can’t hurt you like this.”</p><p>“I misbehaved. I got too greedy and asked too much,” Hwanwoong replies. “I made a mistake, I made a fool of my Lord in front of his people. And then I called for you, on top of that.”</p><p>Mingi shakes his head. “This is fucked up.”</p><p>Hwanwoong stares at him as if he’s grown a second head. “I’m a songbird. I should know better.”</p><p>Mingi wants to ask why he doesn’t even sound resigned, because that would mean that Hwanwoong would have fought and lost, at least. He sounds so final, instead, absolute even. Like he is stating facts. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Water always flows downhill.</p><p>
  <em>A songbird should know better.</em>
</p><p>“Don’t you know the story? Of the songbird whose voice was so beautiful and so powerful that he could melt the coldest heart, and-”</p><p>“- and was warned by his King that if he didn’t fulfill his duties and trusted him, he would end up dead and that’s what happened?” Hwanwoong interrupts and Mingi is so taken aback that he doesn’t even have time to retort, despite the pause Hwanwoong has taken before speaking again. “He was already weak because his voice was so strong, then went and sang for a man that didn’t deserve his heart and died. He should’ve known better.”</p><p>“Kihyun never died, though....” Mingi stutters, holding Hwanwoong’s face in his hand, as gently as he can, and watches his expression shift from ice to confusion. “The King kills his lover because the songbird refused to keep fulfilling his selfish requests, and Kihyun sings him back to life, after defeating the King.”</p><p>It’s too fitting for an analogy, too exaggerated for being foreshadowing, but it works and it’s true, because Mingi has read that book over and over and would read it again and again, out loud, to Hwanwoong, whose eyes look like they hold dying stars and forgotten wishes.</p><p>Hwanwoong pulls back from his hold. “What are you even talking about? That’s not how it goes.”</p><p>“They lied to you.” Mingi tells him. </p><p>He can see it, the doubt insinuating through the cracks of Hwanwoong wounded heart and mind and body. Can see the denial cover it up as best as it can, a band aid that would eventually need to come off. </p><p>But not tonight. Tonight Hwanwoong curls away from him, confused and scared - and Mingi cannot comfort him in his arms, can’t tell him he’s going to be fine, that he hasn’t done anything wrong in his life ever and that he deserves to be loved deeply.</p><p>Mingi cannot kiss his hurt better, like they used to do with his bruised knees when he was a child.</p><p>He reaches out for his hand and feels relieved when Hwanwoong lets him tangle their fingers. “Can The Raven come stay with you? I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”</p><p>Hwanwoong squeezes their fingers and nods. He looks as much tired as he was threatening before, all the pain that was churning Mingi’s insdes melted into a dull ache as well. He wonders how much was his own, and how much was Hwanwoong making him feel how he felt, somehow.</p><p>“Can’t you stay?” Hwanwoong asks, and Mingi wants to. Even if it would mean to sleep on the cold hard ground. But he knows he can’t be found, not again, not after Hwanwoong called for him while he was being punished, and definitely not after The Raven has explicitly ordered him to stay away from the Songbird.</p><p>“Ah. Right.” Hwanwoong seems to understand it all, curls his body around the hand he’s holding and pulls the knuckles to his lips, to kiss them so light Mingi can barely feel it. </p><p>It’s excruciating to not keep holding Hwanwoong’s hand, to not cup his face and tilt it up so that he can finally kiss him on the lips, to not hold him through the night into the dawn. But Mingi feels the air change, feels the cold of the night slip past the windows and under the curtains, knows someone would come for Hwanwoong if he calls for them, so he bends down to press his lips against his forehead, hearing Hwanwoong’s breath tremble, and slips away without looking back.</p><p>---</p><p>The only person awake in the room is San, spooned comfortably by Yunho on the top bunk. One of his arms is dangling from the edge and he looks half asleep, until he sees Mingi, and his eyes blink open, cheeks pushing them up into a soft smile. He reaches out to wave, but Mingi instead rubs his face into the hand, a shaky breath leaving his lips.</p><p>“Aww, my poor baby…” San murmurs, brushing his other hand through Mingi’s hair. “Did something happen again?”</p><p>Mingi nods, resting his head against the mattress right under San’s chin. He’s tall enough to reach anyway. </p><p>“Everything seems so much worse at night doesn’t it?” San murmurs. “When you’re tired and the wind sounds like a cry for help, and the trees seem like they’re clawing up the moon… it’s gonna be gone in the morning. And whatever seemed to be black, will turn out to be just dull grey.”</p><p>Mingi kisses San’s cheeks, loud and wet enough to make the boy complain about it and wipe his face on the pillow, but at least, when he collapses on the bed to sleep, no dreams chase him into the morning.</p><p>---</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The salve smells pungent and stings the lines down his back and the back of his thighs as Seoho applies it as gently as possible. Hwanwoong hisses as it burns against the open welts.</p><p>“I’m sorry...” Seoho murmurs, blowing against the wounds to soothe the pain. It doesn’t work, but Hwanwoong appreciates the sentiment.</p><p>“Can you get my blindfold, please?” Hwanwoong asks when Seoho is done taking care of him. As winter approaches, his condition usually improves as there isn’t as much light, even during the day, but with all the stress he’s been through, not to mention the pain, his eyes feel like they are on fire. </p><p>Blessed darkness finally takes over the orange hue he’s used to stare at until nightfall, and he feels a little bit relieved. “Thank you, hyung,” he says with a little nod, before laying back down on the bed, turning away. The bed dips near his hip as Seoho sits down, rubbing on his arm in comfort.</p><p>“I’m sorry…” his hyung whispers.</p><p>Hwanwoong shrugs. “You’ve been saying that since yesterday. It’s not your fault.”</p><p>“I should’ve done something. Either stopping the Lord… or stopping Mingi…” Seoho replies, and it makes Hwanwoong recoil.</p><p>“Stopping him from what? Being my friend? Worrying about me?” he asks, feeling the headache behind his eyeballs doubling. “What’s so bad about that?” He doesn’t want to get angry at his hyung, since he’s one of the only two people he’s apparently ever allowed to see, but he has chosen the wrong words to console him and it’s not helping him calm down.</p><p>Mingi’s words have been nagging at his mind ever since the last time they had seen each other, they have burrowed into his brain and nested there, like some sort of ugly parasite that now is making him question his whole existence.</p><p>He’s been raised in this room, at the top of the tower, sheltered by the light that made him almost cry blood when he was just a child. He’s barely ever set foot outside the palace grounds, doesn’t really remember much about it beside a sense of unease, and it always made him think that it meant he didn’t like it that much, but now, as he turns around to face Seoho, he wonders if that memory is a lie too.</p><p>Is he really so weak in health that he can’t step outside into the sun without supervision? Is he really so precious that he needs to be kept like a secret? What horrible things would happen if he was to befriend more than a few selected people? Would they really try to abuse him, as he’s always been told? Would they really get close to him just because of his power and use him until there’s nothing left to take?</p><p>Is Mingi like that, too?</p><p>“Hyung, do you know that book the nanny, used to read to me when I was little?” </p><p>Hwanwoong asks, and Seoho frowns at the sudden change of mood in the air. “The one with a sad birdie on the cover? Songbird Kihyun, right? Why?”</p><p>“Youngjo hyung is going into town soon… Can I have a copy?” Hwanwoong asks, and he can feel Seoho huff and move around the room already. Hwanwoong knows that Seoho knows he’s up to something, but he hopes he’s miserable enough that he’d let it slide just this once.</p><p>“Why, did you lose yours? Or did you destroy it?” Seoho asks, and there's a sound of books being piled and moved. It doesn’t take much before Seoho walks back to him, book in hand. He pages through it with a small smile, before tapping his nails on the hardcover to show Hwanwoong he found it. “See? All good. Yes, it’s a bit worn, but-”</p><p>Hwanwoong shakes his head.</p><p>“No, I want a copy from the outside,” he says, and feels Seoho’s breath cut abruptly. He knows all books that reach his hands are reviewed by the Lord in case they contain inappropriate material. He’s always thought it just meant swear words and sex scenes, but at this point he’s willing to bet that’s not all of it. He has managed to get his hands on badly written erotica quite easily, and yet he feels kinda upset with himself that he’s never thought to see what would’ve happened if he had asked for, say, the newspaper.</p><p>Seoho places the book down on the nightstand and sits on the bed beside him, his hands are warm and soft as they cup Hwanwoong’s face, thumbs gently rubbing over his cheeks. “Woongie… I…” he murmurs “I can’t ask that of him, you have to understand.”</p><p>“He’d do it for me.” Hwanwoong insists, wrapping his hand around one of Seoho’s wrists. “He’d do it if you’re the one asking.”</p><p>Seoho pulls back. “You think too highly of me. I don’t have that much influence on him, you know?” </p><p>Hwanwoong's mouth is open in disbelief. He knows Seoho and Youngjo are involved, has witnessed the awkward dance they have been playing around each other with his own eyes, has seen the way Youngjo looks at Seoho - like thirsty men look at water. Of course, they have never made any comments about it, and he has never actually asked. But he knows Seoho wears bracelets and necklaces and pins with pretty pearls and black feathers, he knows who they’re from and why he keeps them. Or at least he thought he knew. “Excuse me? If there’s anyone else in this place beside the Lord that would have any kind of influence over him it’s you! It has to be you!” as soon as the words leave his mouth he knows something is not right. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been clueless to what happens around the place, passing most of his days holed up in his room, but he thought that if anything big would’ve happened between his best and only friends, he’d have eventually been told.</p><p>“Yeah, me and half the servants…” Seoho mutters, before covering it up almost immediately, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud and definitely didn’t mean to let Hwanwoong hear. “I can try, but I can’t promise you anything. He probably doesn’t like me enough as it is, since I’m letting you see Mingi…”</p><p>The windows are tightly shut, but the cold seems to wrap itself around them anyway. Hwanwoong pulls back, fists tightly close at his sides as he turns away from his hyung. “You’re letting me? You are, oh so graciously, letting me?”</p><p>“Woongie, you know that’s not-” Seoho tries to apologise, mortified, but Hwanwoong is tired and bares his teeth at him. He’s hurt and sad and lonely and all he wanted was to be pampered and for his one request to be fulfilled, but of course he doesn’t get to have that. </p><p>“I have no idea what you all think Mingi is doing to me except being a fucking sweetheart, and I would very much like it if you stopped treating him like a threat.” He snarls, mean and harsh - he knows, Seoho doesn’t really deserve it, but he’s past the point of trying to be decent now.</p><p>“Wongie, you don’t kn-” once again Seoho doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The air charges static around them and Hwanwoong’s eyes flash bright under his blindfold.</p><p>
  <em>“Get out.”</em>
</p><p>It’s painful to see the way the words wrap around Seoho and turn his eyes unfocused and a bit manic. There’s a sadness behind them, still, guilt and apology mixed in, even while he excuses himself and walks swiftly out the room.</p><p>Hwanwoong regrets it immediately, and before the door clicks shut he’s already feeling sick at himself, enough to dry retch and taste bitter at the back of his throat. Tears pool along his waterline and spill free when he lies back down, limp. He has to dig his fingers into the soft meat at the back of his thighs to keep himself in control and not accidentally call Mingi again as he cries his lungs out. </p><p>He’s not gonna make the same mistake twice.</p><p>---</p><p>They’ve been telling him how lucky he is since he can remember.</p><p>His earliest memory is being five and dressed in a pretty all black outfit, consisting of a velvet suit, soft shirt, knee high socks and shiny shoes. He remembers the Lord, much younger, kneeling in front of him and fastening a bow tie made of lace, with a silver bell in the middle, and smiling at him. “You’re so precious, little bird.” He said. “You’re so lucky I found you and not someone else. They would’ve been so mean to you…”</p><p>There had been a chorus of agreement, from the maids and the lady and some other people whose faces are now just a blur. All of them saying how lucky he’d been to be picked by his Lord.</p><p>He’s been lucky he got such a pretty room all for himself, with pretty curtains and pretty furniture and these big windows that would let him see the pretty world outside. He’s been lucky the tailors have made him all the pretty outfits he owns, all with the most precious black fabrics, with such a refined style, with such pretty lace details. He’s been lucky the Lord worries about him like a son, making sure he won’t fall sick by going outside alone in the winter, and the summer, and spring and autumn and that he’s made sure to tell everyone to not look at him with pity when he started to wear blindfolds to block out the light. </p><p>He feels bad doubting about all the good things he has, as he’s been repeated over and over how badly others have it. How other songbirds are kept locked behind closed doors and never allowed to ever leave, how they’re forced to sing for their owners even if they don’t want to, how they’re not kept safe and anyone can enter their rooms and touch them and hurt them too.</p><p>How other songbirds are made to sing until they die.</p><p>But there’s now a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, an unease that tickles the back of his neck, a voice in his ears that makes him wonder.</p><p>
  <em>They lied to you.</em>
</p><p>He knew he was going to be in trouble when he refused to dance and sing privately for his Lord. It’s not his favourite task, because it always leaves him feeling dirty, somehow, and he always has to take two hot baths to wash the feeling away. But he’s never refused to work, ever, except for when he was very sick. He knew that being insincere as to why he didn’t want to work would only have gotten him in more trouble.</p><p>His ankle still hurts a bit, yes, but the pain is bearable and this his Lord knew. He is simply worried about Mingi, since he hasn’t seen him after Seoho had found them together in bed, hugging. Nothing scandalous in itself, for sure, but every time he has asked the other if anyone else had known, he got mixed replies. He is sure The Raven knows, and he doesn’t know how bad that will turn out for Mingi.</p><p>He can’t remember when he slipped on his words, giving away to his Lord that he had gravely misbehaved. All his attempts to cover it up have only made him dig a deeper hole and, once he had stopped answering, he knew he would have been punished.</p><p>His Lord was upset.</p><p>And told him how disappointed he was, and on top of that he had also made such a huge mistake on stage too, embarrassing him in front of important people. How sorry he was to do it, but he couldn’t let this one slide or it would create a precedent.</p><p>How this was going to hurt him just as much as it would hurt Hwanwoong.</p><p>Hwanwoong shivers as the memory of the first hit echoes in his ears again.</p><p>
  <em>They lied to you.</em>
</p><p>Mingi’s voice booms over the cacophony of his own thoughts and he murmurs it under his breath as well. </p><p>It sounds so real when he says it out loud.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. iv</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You know everything I do is for your best, yes?” Youngjo tells him, and Hwanwoong takes his eyes off Mingi to look at his hyung. </p><p>He thinks once again: "They lied to you".</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we finally get to meet dongju and dongmyeong and... yup! If my notes are correct that 'eventual' before the 'romance' tag is gone now! amazing.</p><p> </p><p>This chapter is rated T for TWINS!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Mingi visited him, Hwanwoong really thought they had assigned him a new butler, since he had been asking for so long to have someone else with him. He loved both Seoho and Youngjo to the moon and back, they had grown together like brothers, but they both were very busy people and the loneliness was becoming so oppressing he was having a hard time cheering himself up.</p><p>At least, when he was a child, they let him play with Dongju and Dongmyeong, before the first fell sick and the other was sent away to study.</p><p>He didn’t think much about it when Mingi had gone so quickly without actually cleaning or tidying up anything, and it only started making sense when he had confessed that he probably wasn’t allowed to visit at all. He might not have shown it, but Hwanwoong was glad that Mingi had still decided to visit, despite how much trouble he could’ve gotten himself into.</p><p>He had confided with Seoho then, begging him not to tell anyone, especially Youngjo, because he wanted something for himself, just for once, without needing to have it run by and approved by a bunch of other people. And he knew that, if Seoho decided to rattle them out, the Lord would have probably either locked him or Mingi away for at least a month.</p><p>He just wanted a new friend and Mingi was so bright and funny, such a breath of fresh air in the stale atmosphere of his room. He has met plenty of people since he arrived at the palace, most of them he never saw again, but no one has ever struck him so quickly. He had warmed up to Mingi right from the start and it was as exciting as it was scary.</p><p>“You like him.” Seoho said, with a big sigh, half exasperated, half warm, a couple days before he was to dance for the party at the palace. </p><p>“Duh! I wouldn’t have let him buzz around me so much if I didn’t,” Hwanwoong answered, as he twirled in his new outfit. The hems were still all ragged and uncut, the top needed to be re-stitched, but he felt really pretty in it. He wondered if Mingi would have thought so too. </p><p>“No, you <em>like</em> like him.” </p><p>He could see his face turn bright red in the mirror, ears on fire as he turned around to scream at his hyung how dumb he was to even just think something like that.</p><p>And when he saw Mingi again, after The Raven almost found out about their little secret, it felt almost painful to send him away.</p><p>And without a kiss.</p><p>---</p><p>“How are you?” Youngjo asks him with a small smile. He’s hovering just outside the door, the silver handle of an umbrella catching light between his hands, but the rest getting lost into the full black of his coat. Hwanwoong turns to greet him with an equally small smile.</p><p>His bruises have almost completely healed, save just a couple spots on his thighs that still ache when he sits on them, and he’s gone back to his usual duties - looking pretty at dinner and singing every other day to ease his Lord’s and the family’s worries.ù</p><p>Could definitely be worse.</p><p>“Good. When are you leaving?” he asks, as he grabs his coat and slips into it. It’s been a while since he went outside, and he had forgotten how warm and soft it was. He burrows into it, already dreading coming back inside once their walk is over. </p><p>Youngjo offers him an arm when he walks up to him and Hwanwoong takes it with a thank you. “As soon as I’m done walking the gardens with you. Apparently there’s a couple of our Lord’s friends throwing parties for their birthdays and he’d hate to miss them.” Youngjo tells him, sighing. He’s the one who volunteered to be an ambassador for when the Lord was too busy, and yet every time he talks about that part of his job, he seems to sound more and more like he despises it.</p><p>“He’s still missing them; you’re going in his place,” Hwanwoong comments, gets a side glance and immediately rolls his eyes in reply. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean and I know how these things work. You’ve explained it enough.”</p><p>“Master Dongmyeong made a friend while pursuing his studies. One of these people I need to meet is his guardian. To try and have him come visit the young master sometimes when Winter has started weaning down,” Youngjo adds. They’re walking through the corridors to the exit, and Hwanwoong would love to say he’s paying attention, but he’s actually looking around, in the hope to see someone familiar. He recognizes a couple people from the times he’s crossed their paths around the palace, but none of them are the one he’s looking for. Youngjo elbows him in the ribs. “Wouldn’t you like that?”</p><p>“I mean, I guess… master Dongmyeong hasn’t had much time to make friends, has he?” Hwanwoong replies, still tying the odds and ends of what little he heard together. Then he frowns. “Wait, didn’t the Lord ask me to help Dongmyeong talk about his time in the school he’s enrolled in? Because he might be too shy to share?”</p><p>He remembers the dinner, a couple days after Dongmyeong had come back. It was just the family and him, as it often happened, and both twins were uncharacteristically quiet as they ate their food. Dongju had been a bit sick, but Dongmyeong had just come back and seemed to be in good spirits. His Lord had tapped on Hwanwoong’s knee. </p><p>“Can’t you ask our dear Myeongie if he made any friends, little bird?” He had said, and Hwanwoong was more than happy to comply.</p><p>There’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach now, as they walk out the main door into the garden, wind immediately whipping at their coats. He ties his blindfold around his eyes, the gaps in the lace wide enough to let him still see while helping keep out most of the light.</p><p><em>They lied to you. </em>Mingi’s voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he drowns it with an internal scream.</p><p>The gardens are barren, everything around is dulled and cold, most of the plants bare bark and almost no flowers. There’s just a couple people from the staff around, finishing the last preparations before leaving the garden alone until the first signs of spring arrive. One of them Hwanwoong recognizes as a friend of Mingi, even if his name now can’t seem to pop in his mind. He’s crouched down in a ball, as he tends to the dirt around the roots of a small tree, swallowed by the coat he has on, clearly a couple sizes too big for him. He looks up when he hears their steps approaching, and immediately turns around, hands shaking a bit, probably from the cold. Hwanwoong is about to ask Youngjo if he knows his name, but when he turns toward him, Youngjo has one of his signature looks, one Hwanwoong had seen just a couple times, and only when Seoho was present.</p><p>Hwanwoong’s mood sours all at once. He’s never been one to dwell on the meaning of life, the bond of friendship, what makes a true family and any other similar philosophical query, he thought he wouldn’t have to worry about anything of the sort. Seoho and Youngjo were his closest and only friends, he trusted them with everything and he thought they did too. Never before he’d have thought that he might have been kept out from most of their lives. Never before he thought he should be doubting them.</p><p>But he had kept secrets from them too, what rights does he have now to feel bad he’s not being confided in?</p><p>They spend a good ten minutes in silence, slowly pacing around the garden without really following a set path, sometimes stepping into the grass to go see one of the bushes still in bloom. It takes Hwanwoong yet another five minutes before speaking up, and when he does finally open his mouth, he’s hoping he doesn’t just throw up.</p><p>“There’s one of the servants who’s been visiting me. He’s kind and has the prettiest smile, and I like him.”</p><p>“I know.” Youngjo says, immediately, finite and sharp, barely letting Hwanwoong finish his sentence.</p><p>Hwanwoong stops in his tracks and he’s shaking, not really from the cold wind that had started to pick up speed ever since they stepped out. “And?!”</p><p>“You know very well what,” Youngjo says, but he’s not looking at him. It’s the only thing keeping Hwanwoong sanity in check, as he doesn’t know what he’d do if he was looking at him, and his expression was cold and detached. Like this, he can at least pretend Youngjo isn’t really convinced about his words. “I already told him to stay away. I think he’s going to be wise and follow my advice.”</p><p>“What about me?” Hwanwoong growls, stepping closer and turning Youngjo around. He’s tugged his blindfold down, and despite the light hurting, he needs to look at Youngjo in the eyes for this. “Didn’t you think that maybe I wanted him around?”</p><p>“Matters little what you want, Woongie, it can only end badly if he keeps buzzing around you like a bee drunk on pollen,” Youngjo tells him, and his expression is pleading, eyebrows knit together in a frown that wrinkles his forehead. He opens the umbrella immediately and only when Hwanwoong stops squinting he realizes it’s to help ease the strain on his eyes. Maybe he’s not as angry as he was starting to think.</p><p>Yet.</p><p>“Why? What's he doing wrong?” Hwanwoong whines, fists shaking at his sides and jaw hurting by how much he’s gritting his teeth. “He’s never asked anything from me, ever, he’s been a good friend and he’s always made sure I was cared for and- and- and I…” </p><p>Hwanwoong doesn’t like crying. When it’s over, his eyes puff up and itch, he feels his face bloated and so, so tired every single time, not to mention the ache in his chest as his heart seems to struggle to get back the usual rhythm. He cried a lot when he was a child, and tried his best to keep it in when he felt the need bubble up from the pit of his stomach. Now as well, he’s struggling to keep himself in check, but his eyes hurt and the shade helps with the light but the umbrella isn’t shielding him from the wind, and he just wants to understand why he has to hurt so much to feel what he does about Mingi.</p><p>There’s only two tears rolling down his cheeks, and Youngjo is immediately wrapping himself around him, using his big coat too. He wipes the tracks away and curls into him. “I’m sorry, Woongie. I’m sure I could try to ask the Lord, but I don’t want to put you and him in any more trouble.”</p><p>“<em>More?</em> I’m <em>already</em> in trouble again?” Hwanwoong sobs. “Didn’t I pay for that already?” He struggles against yet another burst of tears, but they betray him and fall as well. His fingers immediately press against one of the bruises that haven’t healed yet and, of course, it just makes him cry more, but he really felt the need to do that.</p><p>Youngjo sighs, pulling him in a tight hug. “You did, you did… you’re right, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>Hwanwoong can feel his kisses at the top of his head as he lets his head drop down into Youngjo’s shoulder, taking in shaky breaths to calm himself down. He feels tired all over, like his limbs are made of lead. Once he’s gotten himself back in check as best as he can, he pulls back and wipes away what was left of the tears as best as he can with the sleeve of his coat. Something catches his eyes right over Youngjo’s shoulders and halfway into the distance. </p><p>Mingi is looking their way, wrapped in a heavy coat as well. There’s the small gardener with him, huddled together against the wind. </p><p>There’s a call he can feel stuck in his throat.</p><p>“You know everything I do is for your best, yes?” Youngjo tells him, and Hwanwoong takes his eyes off Mingi to look at his hyung. </p><p>
  <em>They lied to you.</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>The twins' features are different enough that you can tell them apart quite easily when they’re on their own, but if it weren’t for the rest of their figures, it would be almost impossible when they’re together. Dongmyeong is at least an inch taller than Dongju, his hair is a dark, warm chestnut and his eyes are black and sparkly. His body, while slim, has a healthy weight to it, and his skin is usually golden by the time he spends around in the sun. Dongju instead has soft red hair, blue eyes and is so pale the tips of his fingers, his nose and cheek redden at the smallest change of temperature. He’s skinny, despite eating just as much as his twin, and he spends most of the time inside or under the gazebo near the lake in the garden. </p><p>Hwanwoong remembers when they were around five and he was seven, just two years in the palace, and Dongju had fallen extremely sick, to the point that the doctor had started to advise the Lord and his wife how to deal with the grieving remaining twin. He had realized what had happened only when he was older, of course, but he remembers the Lord screaming and crying in a corridor - saying how unfair it was that it was happening again. Dongju had been sick on and off ever since he was born, and it had taken a toll on his body enough that Hwanwoong thinks he didn’t start speaking before he was ten. Even now, Dongju fell sick with cold or even a fever every winter, and more times than not during the hottest days of the year, he’d struggle with low blood pressure.</p><p>It’s weird seeing the twins together, there’s always that underlying creepiness to them, only enlightened by the fact that Dongju looks more like a porcelain doll than a human being.</p><p>Hwanwoong is on his way to the Lord’s rooms, Seoho in tow, when he spots them both sitting in a nook under a big window. “Master Dongju, Master Dongmyeong,” he greets with a little bow. “Hello.”</p><p>“Hyung, hello! It’s been so long!” Dongmyeong smiles at him, or at least Hwanwoong thinks he’s smiling, as his vision is completely black by the blindfold wrapped around his eyes. Ever since his discussion with Youngjo in the gardens, his eyes had kept hurting. “Your eyes aren't getting any better?” he asks, concerned. </p><p>Hwanwoong winches when he feels a hand on his bicep, before calming down realizing it’s just Dongmyeong. “I’m afraid they could only get worse. A price to pay for my voice,” he replies.</p><p>“Ah yes, I’ve read some scientific tomes about it these past months, actually, while I was at the university.” There’s some shuffling, and Seoho places a hand on his elbow, guiding him to sit down on a pouf. He can see the light from the window seeping on his right, the blackness turning lighter on that side. “One of the signs a child could be a songbird is light colored hair and oddly, light colored eyes. That, and physical problems that aren’t linked to any preexisting pathology or subsequently caused by trauma.” Dongmyeong’s voice is very sweet and his diction is perfect, as if reciting straight from a script. Hwanwoong knows nothing about his grades, but he’s willing to bet he’s excelling in any subject. “Although there have been some studies where songbirds might develop different issues after particularly stressful events…” Hwanwoong yet again jumps as there’s a hand patting his knee. Seoho is keeping his own on the small of his back, rubbing gently. It helps with the nervousness, but does little to tell him when he’s being touched next. “I hoped to find more books, but there’s not much you can do when there’s so few of you-”</p><p>Hwanwoong has never seen another songbird in his whole life. He’s grown up with tales of them, of course, Kihyun first and foremost, but everything else came from word of mouth and some book scraps Youngjo would smuggle him every now and then. He had once dreamt of travelling the world looking for some of them, just to have proof that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. Would they be blind too? Hard of hearing? Would there be songbirds born without limbs? Lacking a kidney or a lung? Were they living as well as he was? Or was it true what his Lord had always told him and they were treated so poorly they were always on the brink of death?</p><p>But as Dongmyeong was saying, it was hard to know when there were so few of them in the world.</p><p>“-in the country.” </p><p>“What?” Hwanwoong asks, eyes flying open under his blindfold, turning towards Dongmyeong’s voice as if he could see his expression. </p><p>“Well, most songbirds work or are under the patronage of nobles, and it’s known the rest are either in hiding or kept hidden. Not to mention that one might not know they’re a songbird at all their whole life! If they manage to live, that is - it’s grim to say, but sometimes the health issues are too serious to live a long comfortable life…” Dongmyeong explains. He sounds nearer than before, so Hwanwoong assumes he’s scooted closer to him. Hwanwoong would love to take off his blindfold and look at him, but he’s not risking having to spend two days in bed to recover from the headache that would surely result from exposing himself to light. “I wish there was a census… right now we don’t even know if your numbers are in the dozens or double that. What if there’s hundreds of you?”</p><p>Over a dozen songbirds in the country. Possibly a hundred. And he’d thought there were barely as much in the whole world. It’s what his Lord had always made it sound like, how the very few texts he had made it sound like. He had never questioned it before. He didn’t think there was anything to question.</p><p>“I never owned a book on songbirds that weren’t fairy tales,” Hwanwoong says. There’s just a hitch, a turn in the tone. He hates doing it, but he’s not about to let this chance slip from him. Seoho’s hand on his back freezes. He doesn’t care.</p><p>Dongmyeong hums. “Well, I can bring one for you next time I come back! They’re all in my room at the university anyway.”</p><p>“While you’re at it, you could bring him some tints for his cheeks. He’s been looking awfully sick later.” </p><p>Dongju’s voice is deeper, enough to make it drastically different from his twin, a blessing for one who’s technically blind. Hwanwoong turns to it, hoping his offence translates through the blindfold. “Hey!”</p><p>Dongmyeong laughs at that, before swatting at his brother. Hwanwoong is about to defend himself, but Seoho takes his elbow again and guides him on his feet. “I hope you enjoy your day, Master Dongmyeong and Master Dongju,” Seoho says, bowing. “Good work, Jongho.”</p><p>“Good work, Seoho-hyung,” a new voice rings and makes Hwanwoong jump on the spot.</p><p>“Holy fuck, you scared me! There was someone else?!” Hwanwoong hisses, feeling his heart beat in his throat. “I’m blind! You can’t do this to me!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I probably should’ve mentioned my butler was with me. He does such a good job, I too sometimes forget he’s right here,” Dongju comments, deadpan and with so little expression in his voice Hwanwoong can’t even tell if he’s being sarcastic.</p><p>Jongho, the butler, bows, and Hwanwoong only knows because he feels someone move to his left. “I apologise, Master Hwanwoong. It wasn’t my intention to startle you.”</p><p>“Was damn funny, though.” Dongju comments, this time under his breath. </p><p>Hwanwoong sighs, bows once again and says his goodbyes before stomping away. He’s pissed off and definitely anxious now. It’s already stressful to exist in complete darkness because his eyes are pure shit, and it doesn’t help when people keep being complete obvious jerks about it. “He wasn’t this annoying when we were children. Sometimes I think he hates me,” he whines, when they’re far enough that he’s sure he won’t be heard.</p><p>“Don’t say that. Master Dongju might be rude and spoiled, but you know he’s acting out because he’s always sick,” Seoho tells him. “It must be frustrating.”</p><p>Hwanwoong tries to glare at his hyung, really, it’s just not as effective when you have a piece of cloth on your face. One again, he hopes his feelings carry through anyway. “Oh, he’s frustrating alright.”</p><p>“What would you know, Jongho actually told me he likes him. Maybe he’s not that bad.” </p><p>“He’s not. We talk sometimes, you know this. It’s just been… weird.” Hwanwoong replies, slowing down. He reaches out and takes Seoho’s arm, leaning against him. “I feel there’s some resentment in there that I don’t know where it’s coming from. Like, maybe he doesn’t hate me, but he doesn’t like me for sure.”</p><p>Seoho hums, but offers no insight. After all, he’s always refused to involve himself in the family dynamics of the palace, claiming that taking care of the young staff was enough dynamics for him. Considering how much he does care about them, Hwanwoong has no issues believing him. </p><p>“Oh, I meant to ask,” he says, stopping in his tracks to check there’s no one around. When the place is clear of any sound that isn’t coming from the two of them, he lowers his voice anyway. “Do you know who’s the small gardener friend of Mingi? He’s like, around my height, very slim. He has a honest to god mullet, and light brown hair if I remember right.”</p><p>Seoho taps his finger on Hwanwoong’s hand, a habit he’s always had when he was thinking. “I think it’s Hongjoong,” he replies. “He’s been here for a year, more or less. Very hard working, extremely polite.” There’s a smile pulling at his lips. “I really like him. Why?”</p><p>Hwanwoong thinks a bit about it, if telling Seoho anything at all is a good idea, or if going for half a truth should be enough. There’s this sting of pettiness that is tapping at his skull, he’s still upset about what happened after he had been punished. He’s not mad at Seoho, at all, he feels he’s only got him left to confide in at this point, but he’s been hiding things from him just like Youngjo had. He probably even knew Youngjo had talked with Mingi. Hell, he probably was the one who told Youngjo about Mingi in the first place. </p><p>“I don’t know, I think Youngjo hyung’s has something going on with him,” Hwanwoong shrugs. “He was looking at him like he wanted to eat him, the other day. I don’t know what that might mean.”</p><p>This little, petty revenge tastes like a grip on his arm, tight enough it hurts. It tastes like a little gasp coming from his side, and like Seoho making up an excuse about being late and hurrying them both along.</p><p>Hwanwoong starts rehearsing his apologies right away once again.</p><p>---</p><p>He’s half dressed in a soft sleeveless turtleneck and a pair of black trousers, barefoot and moving back and forth between his closet and the full figure mirror just beside it, trying to choose a shirt to wear for the day, when there’s a knock at the door. He hadn’t heard it at first, it was so faint.</p><p>“Yes?” He calls, scrunching his nose. He had picked up one of his favourites, but he didn’t really feel like wearing it. Maybe he should try out some of the new ones, with puffy, see through, sleeves and details in lace all over. He wishes he could try out his outfits in the light of day, but his eyes seemed to have woken up pretty tired today and he’s kept the room in the shade of the curtains since he had woken up that morning in the hopes it would get better soon.</p><p>He reaches up on one of the shelves, takes one down one that goes off the shoulders and ties around his waist with a ribbon. He pulls it up against his chest, and when he turns to the mirror he sees a familiar figure standing behind him, far enough that he’s not too startled.</p><p>“Mingi?” he murmurs, turning around. Even in the dark he can see his face light up when their eyes meet.</p><p>“Hey.” Mingi greets, one hand waving shily.</p><p>It’s been more than a few weeks since they’d seen each other. Hwanwoong had been waiting, even if, with each passing day, dread that Mingi would actually heed Youngjo’s words had gripped him tighter and tighter until he had almost lost hope. Almost, because he was just about to convince himself to throw all caution to the wind and go meet Mingi himself. Turns out, it’s not needed anymore. “You’re here?”</p><p>Mingi looks down and away, flinching. Hwanwoong immediately worries his words came out harsher than he meant, but then a light pink spreads over Mingi’s cheeks and he mirrors it right away. “I wanted to see you…” Mingi starts, “But I didn’t want to get you in more trouble…” He takes a hesitant step closer to Hwanwoong, who immediately takes a step closer himself, shirt folded over his arms. “I knew The Raven was away and saw Seoho was busy in our dormitory, and- and no one was around and, I mean, and I wanted to tell you something so I thought…”</p><p>Hwanwoong aches. Mingi is so earnest and so open, and right there. He puts his shirt on the bed and then wraps his arms around him, shivering. His upper body had gotten cold while standing around in the room, and Mingi is so, so warm he can’t help the sigh of content he lets out as he nuzzles more into his chest. Mingi’s arms wrap around his waist after a moment of hesitation, and then he feels his lips right on top of his head. The kiss barely makes a sound, and Hwanwoong wants a thousand more.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, because he feels he does owe an apology. Even if not for what Youngjo had said, at least for having called out to him. He’s aware how his voice can twist people for days on end, and how that might leave them feeling used. He doesn’t know if Mingi is upset he had done that twice already, but even if he weren’t he still thinks the way they had parted was reason enough to say sorry.</p><p>Mingi hums, holding him that little more tighter, hands spread wide against Hwanwoong’s back. It makes him buzz with something he still won’t put a name on, but he knows it makes him feel warm and loved anyway. </p><p>Hwanwoong pulls a bit back at the thought, and Mingi does as well, so that now their faces are so close to each other their noses are almost touching. Hwanwoong has lost count of all the times he’s felt the need to lean in and kiss that cute pout, and all the times he thought Mingi maybe would’ve leaned in too and kissed his instead. He doesn’t feel disappointment when Mingi pulls even farther back, because his blush goes from mild pink to bright red and it’s just as satisfying.</p><p>“What are you doing dressed like that, it’s freezing in here,” Mingi complains, already halfway into Hwanwoong’s closet. “Don’t you have a sweater? The shirt you pulled out is very pretty but it’s made of nothing.”</p><p>Hwanwoong chuckles, as he sees Mingi open the drawer with his underwear and promptly close it with much more force than really necessary. He never thought something so silly would make him want to kiss Mingi even more.</p><p>“It’s fine, I’m used to the chill,” Hwanwoong tells him, slipping on the shirt. It is pretty, and fits him perfectly. The sleeves puff and then taper down skin tight over his forearm. The lace curls over the top of his hand and there’s a little hoop he can slip his middle finger into to keep it in place. “Beside, the sweaters don’t look half as good on me as this does.”</p><p>Mingi turns around at that, blushing once again. But this time some bravery seems to shine in his eyes as he steps once again closer, reaching out for the ribbons at Hwanwoong’s waist. “I think you could be dressed in a potato sack and look stunning,” he murmurs, as he loops the ribbons around before tucking them into each other to keep them in place. Hwanwoong points to a box on his vanity, and Mingi opens it carefully. There’s plenty of brooches inside, big and small, studded with crystals or in pure silver. Mingi choses one shaped like a flying bird and pins it in place on the ribbons so they don’t come untied. “There, better.”</p><p>Hwanwoong looks up. Mingi is still looking down and his lashes fan against his cheeks gently, the curl of his hair slowly slipping over his forehead. Hwanwoong reaches out and tucks the stray strands behind his ear, his fingertips gently dancing across his cheek. Mingi looks up then, head a little bit tilted in confusion, but not pulling away from the touches. Hwanwoong decides to stop being a coward.</p><p>He reaches out with his other hand as well, and mimics the same motions he’s done months prior, the first time he had mapped out Mingi’s face with his fingers. He doesn’t need the aid now, he knows the face he’s caressing perfectly, has been thinking and dreaming of him so much, had he any kind of artistic abilities he’s sure he could draw it with his eyes closed. As he hoped, Mingi closes his eyes and relaxes, lets himself be lulled by the gentle strokes, down, down until Hwanwoong only needs to look up.</p><p>And kiss him.</p><p>It’s chaste and light, and a long time coming. He feels Mingi shiver all over, can almost feel his muscles seize in place. But it’s not long before Mingi’s hands are placed over his waist and he’s pulled closer as he’s kissed back.</p><p>He doesn’t know how kisses are supposed to feel, if it’s normal to physically feel your heart stutter around inside your chest, but he hopes that it will happen every other kiss he’s getting, because his head is light and Mingi is holding him even tighter. His arms wrap around Mingi’s neck and he’s bent a bit back, making them almost stumble, as Mingi kisses him a bit too enthusiastically.</p><p>It pulls a laugh from them both, letting them move to sit on the bed. Hwanwoong doesn’t even wait until Mingi is sitting as well before he cups his face and pulls him into another kiss. He can taste the smile. </p><p>“You’re so soft,” Mingi murmurs, his hand curling on the side of Hwanwoong’s neck, thumb brushing across his cheek. Mingi might’ve been the warmer between the two before, but Hwanwoong had warmed up so fast, heart probably beating twice as fast, making all the blood flow around his body, but most importantly his cheeks and ears, which he’s sure would catch fire soon.</p><p>He’s glad Mingi doesn’t seem to be in a better predicament, as he actually does feel hot when he places a hand on his cheek. “You’re so sweet,” Hwanwoong murmurs back, smiling. He wonders why they hadn’t done this before, it seems so silly to have worried and waited about it now.</p><p>They kiss again, and for as much as neither of them seem to really know what they’re doing, they warm up to the motions pretty fast. Hwanwoong thought he’d stop thinking, maybe get so lost in it he forgets himself, but instead it’s quite the opposite. He feels every touch, every caress, he feels the silk of his sheets as they lay down on the bed and curl around each other. He hears every small noise Mingi makes, all his sighs and smiles, all the times there’s a whine caught in his throat. He’s dizzy and light headed when they finally stop. </p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They laugh, and Hwanwoong wastes no time to kiss Mingi again. He rolls over, so that he’s laying on top of him, his arms instinctively resting by his head so that his hands can play with Mingi’s hair. Everything is warm and soft and sweeter by the second. At one point Mingi opens his mouth to say something, but Hwanwoong slips his tongue inside and whatever it was it must not have been as important, because Mingi whines, high pitched and strangled, before kissing him back, licking into his mouth with just as much curiosity.</p><p>“You’re so pretty,” Mingi wonders aloud, eyes sparkling and cheeks red. He reaches out to brush his hands through Hwanwoong’s hair, cups the back of his head to pull him down into another wet kiss. “I can’t believe I’ve been trying not to kiss you all this time.”</p><p>“You wanted to kiss me?” Hwanwoong asks, just to be sure, just to hear it with his own two ears. The answer it’s much obvious by the way Mingi rolls them around, slipping between Hwanwoong’s legs and holding him by the waist. </p><p>“Until we both ran out of air.” Mingi replies. “Until you were pink in the cheeks and sated, until I wanted to do so much more than just kiss you.”</p><p>Hwanwoong whines, feeling like he just caught on fire all over his body. He leans in and bites playfully at Mingi’s neck, just to be a brat about it.</p><p>Mingi laughs. “Did you want to kiss me too?”</p><p>“And so much more…” Hwanwoong echoes, wrapping his arms around Mingi’s back and pulling him down to lie beside him. He curls immediately into his chest, kisses along his collarbones before sighing content. </p><p>Mingi hugs him back and doesn’t ask for more than the occasional peck. There’s an energy buzzing between them, Hwanwoong can feel it clearly pool low in his abdomen, but refuses to act on it. Not yet, not when he knows Seoho is coming soon to get his measurements.</p><p>“I missed you so much.” Hwanwoong says, because he realized he hadn’t yet. He nuzzles against Mingi’s face, making him scrunch his nose. “We need to see each other more now, okay?”</p><p>“They will literally hang me by my feet, naked, out in the cold by the front gate.” Mingi replies, eyes big. “The Raven himself will look at me and I will spontaneously combust in a cloud of dust and cookies.”</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs, hiding his face in Mingi’s neck. “Cookies?”</p><p>“You’re the one saying I’m sweet. I’m basically fifty percent human, twenty five percent cotton candy and ten percent cookies.” Mingi states, even counting on his fingers to reinforce his point.</p><p>“That’s just ninety-five. What’s the rest?” Hwanwoong wonders, knowing something extra is going to come out from the boy in his arms.</p><p>“Dummy. Because I took so long to kiss you, you kissed me first.”</p><p>Hwanwoong rewards him with a long, deep, wet kiss, pouring as much of his feelings into it as he’s able to - tongues are tricky to maneuver, more than he thought he had to ever worry about. He pulls back when Mingi’s fingers are digging into the meat of his ass, and it feels dangerously good. He decides to settle for leaving light kisses along Mingi’s jaw and neck, who leans his head back to give him access. </p><p>“I don’t wanna go,” Mingi says, moving his hands up Hwanwoong’s back. He sounds petulant, more than upset, and Hwanwoong understands. Little to be upset about when you know there’s literally no other way, one must simply deal with it. “Do you know when can I see you again?”</p><p>Hwanwoong hums, leaning back to look at Mingi. “Tonight? Tomorrow?”</p><p>Mingi grimaces. “A time where we don’t have to worry we’ll be found out? I have to clock back in the dormitory before one in the morning and there’s guards around at night.”</p><p>“I can send them away, I can reach them from here,” Hwanwoong replies, closing his eyes when Mingi rests his forehead against his.</p><p>“No, people will hear you. Besides, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”</p><p>“I won’t hurt them.”</p><p>“You know what I mean, right? It doesn’t feel right.”</p><p>Hwanwoong knows. He’s been using his voice selfishly lately and each time it felt like when he was a child and used to wet his feet into the lake in the garden and an algae or a fish would brush against his calves: wet, wrong and slimy.</p><p>He could solve so many of their problems, he knows. Sing once and have the Lord leave the palace to them, Youngjo to apologise and go back to Seoho, have everyone let them be happy together. Have Mingi tell him he loves him, over and over. Have Mingi stay forever and never, ever leave.</p><p>But it would just be a big fat lie, one that would wear down in time. And quickly.</p><p>One that would eat him like moths consume old books.</p><p>“I know,” he sighs. Either way, it still makes Hwanwoong upset. He hugs Mingi tighter, knowing it probably would be best for him to leave soon, despite how neither of them seem to do anything about it. It feels so warm in Mingi’s embrace, and the thought that he could have this every day if things were just that bit more different, almost sends him into a full blown tantrum right then and there.</p><p>“I’ll try to come back soon, okay?” Mingi says, kissing Hwanwoong’s forehead. “While I’m gone you should think about some emergency measures if anyone comes while I’m still here.”</p><p>“I mean, there’s the closet and of course the trunk at the end of my bed. Both a bit dark, but cozy enough.” Hwanwoong tells him, one eyebrow raised. He gets tickled for his wit, which turns into being kissed again.</p><p>Sadly, ending too soon.</p><p>“Can’t believe I came in here to confess and got you to kiss me instead, wow.” Mingi says, as he slowly and reluctantly untangles himself from Hwanwoong’s arms. Or tries to. Hwanwoong refuses to let go, tries his best to lure him back with kisses. Almost succeeds. But he’s much smaller than Mingi, and eventually gets picked up by him. A pleasant surprise, really, but that ends with them still kissing as Mingi opens the door, places him back on the ground and pulls back to leave.</p><p>Hwanwoong whines. “Don’t go.”</p><p>“You know I don’t want to,” Mingi replies, kissing him on the forehead one more time before skipping down the stairs. Hwanwoong watches until the steps sound faint, before slipping back inside his room.</p><p>He lets out a high pitched whine, sliding down the door to curl up on the ground, hands covering his face to hide his deep blush from the empty room. He places a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound hard, trying to time his breath to calm it down. </p><p>He hums a tune, and puts his hopes in the near future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. v</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You see, Youngjo has told me he met Myeongie’s friend from the university. He seems like a really good boy.” The Lord talks, tapping his fingers on a piece of paper. “He also found out that he too is a songbird. Who would’ve thought! And I care about you like if you were my own child. I’d never bring such a stranger in here without your permission, you know that, right?” He takes Hwanwoong’s hands in his.<br/>“It’s fine!" Hwanwoong is quick to reply, nodding for emphasis. He smiles. “You don’t have to ask for my permission.”<br/>“Oh, but I might need to ask for your help, little bird,” The Lord says, patting Hwanwoong’s knee gently before standing up. “I really want to make friends with him too. You will help me, right?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please be warned that this chapter contains strong language and scenes of phisical assault.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His Lord is a tall man in his fifties, black hair slicked back, with only the temples starting to grey. His eyes are wrinkled, bags underneath a dark shade, but otherwise his complexion is mostly flawless. He favors dressing in uniform-inspired clothes, with medals and chains and sashes, rings on his fingers. He’s an intimidating man, when you first see him.</p>
<p>It’s the closest Hwanwoong has had for a father.</p>
<p>“Little bird, there you are!” His lord greets him, standing up from his desk. They’re in his studio, a big room with bookcases lining the walls and papers spread all around. It’s the messiest one, but still looks organized well enough to not feel cluttered. “I hope you don’t mind. I have had my son’s servant come get you. Our Seoho was busy.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong actually minds. It’s never happened before, only Youngjo and Seoho were allowed to accompany him around, and he’s also pretty sure to have seen Seoho walk to the servants dormitory a couple hours prior, probably to rest. He doesn’t like feeling paranoid, but he’s got so much more to lose now.</p>
<p>Mingi, despite being apparently reluctant, had come to visit him every single day since their first kiss. Sometimes it lasted barely a handful of minutes, but it still meant a lot to Hwanwoong. Especially when he always got his kisses. They had come close to getting caught a couple of times, but Seoho had seemed too distracted to actually catch on.</p>
<p>“Hyung, when The Raven comes back, I can’t come this often,” Mingi had told him, just this morning, as he helped Hwanwoong into his outfit for the day. His hands would linger, fingers pressing gently into his skin and making him shiver. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong had smirked then, reaching up to fix Mingi’s collar, just an excuse to pull him down. “You don’t really believe that either, do you?” he had murmured right into his lips. </p>
<p>“It’s fine, I was just surprised,” Hwanwoong replies. Jongho is doing his job very well, actually. He had knocked on his door twice, announced himself from outside and didn’t step in before Hwanwoong had told him he could. Then he had explained calmly what was happening and asked if he needed any help with the blindfold. It was a cloudy, gloomy day, and his eyes had been doing fine, but he had been so taken aback by the interaction that had just put one on and let Jongho lead him to the Lord’s room. </p>
<p>“I know you’re capable of walking by yourself,” Jongho had told him, hesitant, as if he didn’t really know if he was even allowed to speak to him. “But I’d feel better if you’d hold my arm anyway.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong turned to give a little nod to Jongho, who looked extremely constipated. Nerves do that to people sometimes.</p>
<p>The Lord smiles, gesturing for Hwanwoong to sit down in the armchair in front of the desk and he does so, seeing Jonho twitch in the corner of his eyes unsure if he should help him. “You see, Youngjo has told me he met Myeongie’s friend from the university. He seems like a really good boy.” The Lord talks, tapping his fingers on a piece of paper. Just a quick glance and Hwanwoong can tell it’s Youngjo’s chicken scratch. “He also found out, totally by accident, that he too is a songbird. Who would’ve thought!”</p>
<p>Something clicks inside Hwanwoong, reverberates through his bones like vibrations carrying through a bell after you’ve struck it. He instinctively brings a hand on the silver one fastened around his throat as he tries his best to not sound desperate. “Really? He’s another songbird? Just like me?”</p>
<p>The Lord nods, smiling brightly. “He is! He’s apparently being taken care of by the founder of the University and that’s how he met Myeongie.” He tells Hwanwoong, taking out a slip of paper. There’s a drawing, sketched in pencil, of a young man tucking his hair behind his ear, studs decorating his lobes and more crystals around his fingers and neck. He looks ethereal and solemn like a prince. “I was hoping he’d like to stay here for a while, you know? I can’t imagine what a songbird could possibly do all locked up in an old building like that? If he came by I could bring him along to meetings and you could make friends, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong could have someone like him in the palace. He could get so many of his questions answered, so many of his doubts taken away. If this songbird really lives in a University, he could know so much, even more than Dongmyeong seems to do. </p>
<p>If he liked it enough in the palace, maybe he could end up working for the Lord, and maybe Hwanwoong wouldn’t have to be so closely watched. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to work as much.</p>
<p>Maybe he could be with Mingi. Big maybe… but not that impossible.</p>
<p>“Sir?” Hwanwoong asks, because he doesn’t want to put his hopes too high and then come crashing down to the cold, hard ground. </p>
<p>“You’re my favourite, you know that?” The Lord murmurs, full of affection. He stands up and quickly goes around the desk to kneel in front of Hwanwoong. “I care about you like if you were my own child. I’d never bring such a stranger in here without your permission, you know that, right?” He takes Hwanwoong’s hands in his. They’re rough and knobby. He used to be a fabric dyer at first, before becoming a tailor and then a fabrics merchant. His business had started to flourish fast, Hwanwoong remembers it well. The Lord used to bring him along to every single meeting and transaction, jokingly asking for his opinion about it too. Now he’s just present when the guild of the merchant meets up. </p>
<p>“It’s fine! He’s Myeongie’s friend, I’d love to have him here!” Hwanwoong is quick to reply, nodding for emphasis. He smiles. “You don’t have to ask for my permission.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but I might need to ask for your help, little bird,” The Lord says, patting Hwanwoong’s knee gently before standing up. “When he comes here, will you help talk with him?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong squints. He’s thankful for the lace over his eyes that masks his expression, as he’s more than sure his Lord would question him otherwise. He doesn’t like wherever the conversation is going. He doesn’t know why he would have to talk with the songbird together with the Lord, and honestly he doesn’t even know if he wants to know.</p>
<p>“I really want to make friends with him too, but I don’t know if he’ll like me. You will help me, right?” The Lord says, and there’s a tone in his words, one Hwanwoong heard before but never really paid attention to.</p>
<p>It’s the same one he’s always used when asking to use his voice, to turn people against each other or have them become friends, to raise a price or lower it, to convince a possible investor into actually investing. To have Dongmyeong talk about his friend. To have Dongju calm down when angry.</p>
<p>To have him relax at night before laying with his wife.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong feels his skin erupt into goosebumps and a sense of nausea even before his Lord speaks again.</p>
<p>“Good boy. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”</p>
<p>“Tonight?” Hwanwoong cringes. He’d been asked in the lord’s chambers almost every night for the past week. He was starting to feel sick just thinking about the way to them, and he didn’t know how long he could stand it.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong holds onto Jongho’s arm very tightly as they exit the room. He tugs his blindfold down and is basically the one leading the way. It takes him a couple turns and a flight of stairs to slow his pace.</p>
<p>“If I may...” Jongho then adds, unclenching Hwanwoong’s fingers from his arms, and repositioning his hand better. He places his own on top and starts walking back towards the tower, slowly. “You could pass by the kitchen to get a snack. Maybe, there was something mixed in that upset your stomach and you’re too sick to leave your chambers tonight.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong has always thought he was a good judge of character. His convictions are croubling day by day, but there’s still a kind of vibe he gets from certain people that he trusts. Mingi gave it off since the beginning, and so did Dongmyeong. There’s a tall gardener he sometimes sees from the windows of his tower and, even from afar, he can feel it about him, too. Jongho gives off the same vibe, but it’s subtle. Less strong, but still present.</p>
<p>“Are you suggesting I lie to get away from my duties?” He asks, trying to go stern and not thankful, as he’s feeling right now. “I could report you to Seoho.”</p>
<p>Jongho smirks. “Well, if you don’t want to lie, I’m sure San or Wooyoung will be more than happy to cook something awful for you.” He says. “And good luck getting past Dongju. He seems to have taken a liking to me, for whatever reason.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong is about to ask what that means, because he’s sure he’s never, ever, seen Dongju interested in anything besides himself and his twin. Jongho is quicker to fill the silence.</p>
<p>“What I’m suggesting is, that you should be able to decline, and make it so without getting into trouble.” He says. They’ve reached the bottom of the staircase, and Hwanwoong blinks up towards the top, an odd suspicion sparking in his mind. He strains his ear to hear better and he thinks he can recognize the voice humming coming from the top as Mingi’s.</p>
<p>Jongho has already let go of his arm and is standing a few feet away, hands behind his back and a small smile on his face as he looks up as well. “I can tell the Lord myself.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong rushes up the stairs two at a time.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The next time Hwanwoong meets Dongju, he’s getting ready by the door. It has been snowing all the day prior and even now, well past lunch, it doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting up. Jongho is clad in a black coat, collar pulled up and scarf wrapped around his neck. He’s holding up a white fur coat, crystals and pearls woven into the fabric, the inside lined in light blue satin. </p>
<p>“Oh, it’s Hwanwoong.” Dongju chips, not even looking at him in the eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s Hwanwoong <em>hyung</em>.” Hwanwoong corrects, arms crossed over his chest. “Hwanwoong <em>hyung</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hwanwoong <em>hyung</em>.” Dongju echoes, his intonation leaning dangerously close to mocking.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong sighs, nodding his head towards Jongho, who bows back. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong had asked about the butler after he had taken care of him, and Mingi had told him Jongho wasn’t much for words with strangers, and liked it better when it was just their group of friends around. He was the youngest, the same age as Dongju, and everyone doted on him a lot, even if, most of the time, he seemed the adult out of all of them. </p>
<p>“Heading out in this weather, young master?” Seoho asks, appearing at Hwanwoong’s side, and immediately gripping his elbow. As if he had tried to run away and had not simply grown tired of waiting for him. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay inside until it stops snowing, at least?”</p>
<p>“What’s the point of wanting to see the snow if I’m inside? I want to go out.” Dongju replies, visibly irritated. He’s glaring at Seoho over the collar of his coat, as Jongho slips his gloves on and grabs a hat for him. The young master frowns and tries to swat him away, but Jongho simply lets him for a while and then puts the hat over his red hair anyway. </p>
<p>Seoho and Hwanwoong exchange a look. Ever since Seoho started being in charge of the staff, he had to switch over a dozen butlers for Dongju every year, some of them lasting barely a week. Dongju wasn’t the worst of the family, but he didn’t like to listen to anyone, making it a personal challenge to see how far he could push someone before they had enough. Jongho had seemed to stubbornly stuck himself to his side, and no matter how insufferable Dongju could be, he didn’t seem to be phased by him in the least.</p>
<p>On the contrary, every time Seoho checked up on him, Jongho would always reply: “I like master Dongju. He’s not a bad person.”</p>
<p>“Does the Lord know you’re going out?” Seoho tries again. Hwanwoong feels Dongju’s eye roll even with his back turned.</p>
<p>“I suppose he does. I might have told him over lunch,” Dongju says, nodding for Jongho to open the doors.  The cold air rushes in immediately and Hwanwoong shivers immediately, in spite of his warm clothes, moving closer to Seoho in the hopes of finding shelter. Dongju walks off with a wave of his hand, boots crunching the freshly fallen snow. Jongho stays behind long enough to bow.</p>
<p>“Please drag him back in if the wind picks up.” Seoho whispers, receiving a small nod in return.</p>
<p>“What’s gotten into him?” Hwanwoong asks, sighing, as the door closes and he can finally stop freezing. “Is it just me or the little master has gotten particularly irritating lately?”</p>
<p>Seoho gives him a pointed look, before linking arms and starting to walk past the hall. “You know how he gets when Dongmyeong is around… The two get along fine, but then you add the Lord and Lady and it gets messy.” he says, biting his bottom lip.</p>
<p>“Am I a problem for him, too?” Hwanwoong wonders. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment Dongju stopped playing with him and started spending more and more time alone, mostly in the palace’s massive library, but there’s a definite divide in his memories, between when they were basically joined at the hip and whatever it is they have now. The letters they exchange feel like his old Dongju is back, but the moment they see each other something shifts, and Hwanwoong is left bitter.</p>
<p>Seoho doesn’t answer, simply tracks on. They have to do a second fitting for Hwanwoong’s new clothes, and choose different patterns for his performance outfits, since, as soon as winter leaves, he’ll be back to entertain at parties and dinners.</p>
<p>“Am I a problem for him too, Seoho? It’s the second time I’ve asked you, and you have avoided the answer.” Hwanwoong insists. He tries to stop walking, but Seoho hurries him along again. “What is it you’re not telling me?”</p>
<p>“A lot, Hwanwoong. There’s a lot I’m not telling you, there’s a lot we’re not telling you!” Seoho turns, voice choked. “I’m sorry, okay? The Lord treats you more like a son than he has ever treated him, Dongmyeong is obviously the favourite twin, since he gets to travel and study abroad and get out and make friends. Do you know how long it took me to convince the Lord to assign a younger staff to him? Because he thought Dongju didn’t need to interact with peers?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong likes to think he’s not been completely obvious all these years, he’s sure he’s picked up plenty of signals all around, but he’s also never been shown, raw and honest, how bad it all looks. He’s always thought of Dongju as a little brother, maybe more of a cousin, in the last few years, but he never thought how that could make him feel. He’s also never thought about what kind of struggle it was to be so closed off from the world, since he had no issues with it and seemed to manage just fine.</p>
<p><em>They lied to you</em>, once again Mingi’s voice provides, but now it also adds: <em>But you haven’t been looking until now, either.</em></p>
<p>Hwanwoong bows his head, mortified. Seoho pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut, shoulders tense. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Hwanwoong likes to sing when he’s alone. His voice usually only carries power when he wants it to, but he can never be too sure - and to avoid influencing people accidentally, he always prefers to sing alone and to harmless lyrics. He’s in the middle of a verse when there’s a knocking on his door.</p>
<p>He steps to it, already blushing a bit, thinking Mingi could be passing by earlier than usual. But instead, when he opens up the door, he finds the black figure of Youngjo. He’s clad in his usual feathered coat and holds a slim package in his hands.</p>
<p>“A present, to reconcile.” he says, holding it out.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong takes it. By its weight and shape, it seems to be a hardcover book, squared and quite big. “Wanna come in?” he asks, stepping back. Youngjo walks in, taking off his coat and draping it on the back of a chair. He watches as Hwanwoong sits down on the couch and waits until he taps the space beside him to join him.</p>
<p>“How was your journey?” Hwanwoong asks, turning the package around. It’s night now, and he can see fairly well. The paper is expensive, dark grey with a silver pattern of rowan leaves. He feels bad thinking about ripping it off, so he does his best to carefully unfold it.</p>
<p>Youngjo leans against the backrest, sighing. “Mostly boring. I had to gather nobles here and there for a spring arrival kind of party the Lord wants to throw,” he replies. “I got stuck at Master Myeongie’s university for a couple of days due to a snowstorm. It’s gonna reach here soon.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong uncovers the book carefully, revealing the cover, printed on burlap. There’s a little bird in a corner, perched on a barren branch and framed by the shape of the moon. In the middle, with a pretty script, is written the title.</p>
<p>“You brought me the book!” Hwanwoong gasps. “You got me songbird Kihyun’s book!”</p>
<p>Youngjo smiles at him. “I couldn’t find a copy in braille, sorry. But I supposed you’d be happy with this one as well.”</p>
<p>“It’s the real one, right?” Hwanwoong asks, flipping through the pages. The book is full of illustrations, taking up the pages two by two, with a couple lines of descriptions for each one. Even just by giving it a quick glance, he can tell the story isn’t the same one he’s used to read.</p>
<p>“I figured this one woudn’t hurt. And that I owe you an apology,” Youngjo says, moving closer and wrapping an arm over Hwanwoong’s shoulder, looking at the book with him, “I’m sorry about Mingi. I wish it would end differently.”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t worry. It will.” Hwanwoong says, closing the book and settling it aside. “We’re together now.”</p>
<p>Youngjo turns slowly to face him, his arm slowly slipping away. He blinks a couple times. “Hwanwoong, don’t be stubborn.”</p>
<p>“I’m not - I told you. I like him.” Hwanwoong says, straightening his back and looking Youngjo in the eyes. “Actually, I’d go as far as saying I’m in love with him.”</p>
<p>It takes a moment, and then Youngjo is laughing. “Please, Hwanwoong, you don’t know what being in love is.” His eyes roll so hard it looks painful. “You have no idea what you’re even talking about.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong keeps staring back, and this time he’s baring his teeth as well. He won’t have anyone talk to him like that, not even Youngjo. “By what Seoho hyung told me, neither do you.” he spits back, all venom and bitterness. There’s a twisted kind of pleasure mixed with guilt, seeing the way Youngjo recoils, as if he accidentally touched a pot still over a hot stove. </p>
<p>“What happened between me and him is none of your business, and has nothing to do with you and Mingi.” Youngjo hisses. His eyes are cold, the coldest Hwanwoong has ever seen them. He’s sitting far away and isn’t breaking eye contact. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong scoffs. “Like hell it doesn’t. What is this? Just because you’re The Raven you can carelessly fuck the staff but I can’t have a serious relationship?” he asks, voice raising. He’s doing his best to keep things civil, but he can feel the anger bubble up inside him. </p>
<p>“I’m not fucking the staff!” Youngjo growls, and he stands up. He looks twice as big, with his shoulders pulled back and his head tilted upwards. </p>
<p>“Two words: Kim. Hongjoong. Ring a bell?!” Hwanwoong stands up as well, but he’s immediately more frustrated when he can’t even reach his chin. “And this is beside the point! I want to know why you’re against me and Mingi! We’re not doing anything wrong!”</p>
<p>“You’re gonna be fucking flogged again if you keep this up, are you insane?” Youngjo screams then, something breaking his posture. It sounds a lot like despair. “Why do you think you’ve got a room by yourself? Why do you think you’re let out when you want and can freely walk around the palace? Why do you think they let you have dinner and lunch and breakfast with them?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong flinches at that. There’s raw emotion, nerves ripped open and exposed. He tries to reply, but doesn’t manage to.</p>
<p>“Do you fucking realize all the freedom you have now it’s all because I’ve been begging the Lord to treat you like a fucking human being and not a cashcow?!” Youngjo takes a step towards him, one hand reaching out to grasp at his shoulder. Hwanwoong jumps at that, taking a step back, but that only has him end with his back against the closest wall. “He’s obsessed with you, to the point it’s sick and twisted! He barely cares for his own son! He learns you’re messing around with someone, he’ll have them beaten bloody. Them, and then you!”</p>
<p>“Stop that! You’re lying!” Hwanwoong screams back, finally finding his voice again. He swats Youngjo’s hand away from his shoulder and curls into himself. “He might be mean and greedy, but he’s not that mean, you’re just fucking paranoid!” </p>
<p>“He literally beat you with a hanger because you tripped and couldn’t attend the dinner after performing!” Youngjo takes a deep breath, tries to level his voice. He bends a bit down, hands together in the sign for a prayer. His voice is barely a whisper. “He got upset because you weren’t there to convince the guests to give him a loan.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t need a loan, he’s filthy rich,” Hwanwoong replies, honestly confused, “You can come up with better excuses than these.”</p>
<p>Youngjo closes his eyes, stepping back. “Whatever. Think whatever makes you feel better.” he murmurs, taking the coat and draping it again over his shoulders. He smooths down the fabric. “This is the last time I’m telling you. Stop seeing Mingi, or I’ll have to stop you myself.”</p>
<p>“You’d never hurt me,” Hwanwoong says, trembling a bit. “Right?” As the word is out of his mouth he feels panic build in his chest. Youngjo has been an older brother and a friend, the  closest person to him. He would be the one he went to for all his worries, all his doubts and his questions. He remembers curling up in his arms when he was just a child and crying his eyes out for this or that nightmare. Youngjo wasn’t that much older, but he would hold him tight and talk to him until he calmed down. He was the one he could feel comfortable telling his most embarrassing thoughts and worries, who would always hug him gently and smile sweetly.</p>
<p>To think this Youngjo was the same person, to think he could hurt him willingly...</p>
<p>Youngjo’s expression softens, turns from anger to pain. “I could never, Woongie, you know that,” he replies, opening the door to walk out and away, “But I can’t promise the same for Mingi.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There is a dinner with some friends of the Lord. They lived in the city, so it wasn’t too much of a hassle to come to the palace, despite the awful weather, especially since the Lord has broken the good caskets of wine for the occasion.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong feels extremely out of place. He’s the only one, beside the Lord, from the palace, not even Seoho or Youngjo are present, which has never happened before. The only staff allowed in the big room, used interchangeably for dining and for tea time, are a couple of servers. Hwanwoong recognizes the one with the dimples as one of Mingi roommates, but he’s never seen the other two in his life. His hands are sweating and he keeps trying to dry it on his pants.</p>
<p>They’re all talking business, money and support and what kind of people they’ve hired as protection. They’re talking about the King and his rule, comparing it to another Country, where apparently there’s a group of elite people ruling, instead. All their words ricochet around the room, and Hwanwoong feels stupid as a brick, for he’s not able to actually understand where this whole discussion is going. He smiles when he’s smiled at, but beside that he just sticks to eating his food and making pleading eyes to the dimpled server. </p>
<p>“Little bird, what do you think? Would I make a good King?” His Lord asks, suddenly, wine glass swirling in his hand, leaning back against the chair. </p>
<p>“My lord, I’m afraid I don’t understand what answer you’d like of me.” Hwanwoong replies, carefully. He’s trembling slightly, a siren in his brain blasting loudly, warning that something wrong is bound to happen, though he cannot figure what, exactly. He knows he needs to speak up, say anything, yet his tongue doesn’t assist him.</p>
<p>There’s laughter all around, his Lord giggling as he sips his wine . A hand poses on his thigh and Hwanwoong almost crawls out of his own skin. It’s the noble sitting on his right, one of the Lord’s oldest friends and business partners. A man Hwanwoong never liked. “Oh, aren’t you funny today!” He says, leaning into Hwanwoong’s personal space. “Come on, won’t you humor us?”</p>
<p>His Lord puts a hand on his bicep, holding on as he speaks. “Come on, don’t you think I’d make a good King? You see, our friends over there”—he nods to two men sitting at the other end of the table, who are lighting up cigars. They blow the smoke right in Hwanwong’s direction, and immediately get asked for a drag or a cigar by the other guests. Hwanwoong wants to cough, but refrains himself, eyes watering with the effort—“see, they don’t think I’d make a good King. Why don’t you try to convince them?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong has an immediate reaction to that tone of voice. It’s raw and visceral, the same one would have seeing a tiger about to eat you alive, he supposes. It’s conditioning down to his marrow, but there’s been turmoil rattling his bones lately and what actually happens instead is he sees Mingi’s friend entering with dessert, and he calls out.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I’d like help.”</p>
<p>The dimpled boy’s head snaps up, eyes wide, because, even if Hwanwoong had barely let out a whisper, the song still carried through. It makes the server trip on nothing, get off balance and almost spill profiteroles and macarons everywhere. He catches himself on time, rights himself up and says with his lovely, clear voice: “Dessert, my lords! Would you like to have it comfortably sitting in front of the fireplace in the next room?”</p>
<p>His Lord is visibly upset, and about to protest, but the guests are already cheeringly following him out of the room. The hands that had been on Hwanwoong slip away and he feels like he has just started breathing again. </p>
<p> The moment he steps out of the room, his Lord growls at Seoho, who is managing the staff, not too far. “Call that servant.” He’s beyond upset. He’s angry. Mad. Hwanwoong is right behind him, trying to stop him. </p>
<p>“San?” Seoho calls, confused and concerned. Mingi’s friend walks up to them.</p>
<p>The Lord is quick to grab him by the wrist, tugging him down to kneel. He’s shouting, spitting, and San is obviously in pain. Hwanwoong throws himself in the middle, trying to separate the two, but his Lord glares at him, and the memories of being flogged come back tenfold, making him take a step back.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” A voice asks, and both the Lord and San turn toward it. Youngjo is looking at the scene, his coat still dusted with snow, probably having just come back from outside. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong takes his chance and breaks the hold the Lord has on San, having him run to hide behind Seoho. He’s about to turn and run towards Youngjo and hide as well, when an open hand hits him in the face, hard. He’s pushed back by the blow, turns toward the Lord, who’s already charging another blow. Hwanwoong thinks he’s about to be slapped again, so he tries to lean back to avoid it, but instead there’s a boot kicking at his chest hard enough he would’ve hit the wall if Youngjo hadn’t caught him in time.</p>
<p>He’s in pain, a lot of it, mostly coming from shame and anger, probably, but still burning hot red anyway. He can barely make out what Youngjo is shouting, his heart beating awfully loud inside his head along with all the noise.</p>
<p>“Leave us.” he states, as calm as he’ll ever be.</p>
<p>There’s barely a second of lag before the Lord’s eyes gloss over, and get a bit unfocused. His shoulder drops, his fist unclench, and he calmly walks away towards where probably the rest of his clique has gone to eat cake. The silence that overtakes the room is deafening, only really broken by Hwanwoong’s shaky breaths and whimpers. San’s eyes are as wide as saucers, bulging almost out of his head, as he looks, in a mix of panic and fear, between where the Lord disappeared to and Hwanwoong.</p>
<p>“Woongie, hey, hey, baby it’s okay.” Youngjo is whispering, gently holding him in his arms “Ssh… it’s over now…”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong wants to scream, instead. He tries, but all that comes out is a stuttering wheeze, trembling even as he’s being held. Seoho joins into the embrace almost immediately, kissing his wet cheeks and adding his reassuring and calming words to Youngjo’s, with not much of a result. Hwanwoong doesn’t know how hard he’s crying, but it does feel like a lot, like his tears are heavy and rolling down his cheeks by the weight they carry. He looks up, seeing San standing there, not too far, hands fisted into his shirt, crying as well, one of his wrists raw red and bruised. Hwanwoong wants to apologise for involving him, for not thinking of his safety above all, but every time he tries to open his mouth, just another garbled sob comes out. San, on his part, seems to understand anyway, because his expression softens, and his hands unclench. He hastily wipes his tears and excuses himself, saying he’ll go get water and tissues.</p>
<p>“I’ll take him up.” Youngjo murmurs, picking Hwanwoong up in his arms. He’s a deadweight, but Youngjo is strong enough to support him, as he curls against his chest, shivering. </p>
<p>“I’ll make sure San is back in his room with someone to take care of him,” Seoho replies, watching them walk away, “and then I’ll come by.”</p>
<p>They don’t meet many people while they walk, mostly only staff that knows better than to look at them or ask any kind of questions. One of the oldest maids gasps and rushes to whisper in someone else’s ear, and when Youngjo is about to reprimand her and demand she keeps discreet silence about the scene, Hwanwoong whines, clinging harder. </p>
<p>“I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you alone.” Youngjo reassures him, fixing his hold and speeding up his pace. Just as he turns a corner not too far from the tower’s stairs, his feet halt seeing a figure already in front of them. Mingi turns immediately, eyes wide and glossy with unshed tears. There’s Hwanwoong’s call glinting in them, Youngjo can tell. He doesn’t want him near his friend, he doesn’t like that he’s so in tune with his songs, and he doesn’t want Hwanwoong to be in love with him.</p>
<p>But no matter what he wants, there’s something big and warm within them, and he witnesses it, as Hwanwoong stops trembling and lets out a small, weak sound, that almost gets losts into the fur collar of his coat, speaking without even looking.</p>
<p>“Mingi?”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There’s whispers, somewhere in the background. They’re rushed and harsh, sometimes hiking up into almost normal volume, but always getting cut off. They’re too quiet to make out any words, too quick to follow any pattern.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong tries to tune them out, burrowing his head into the crook of Mingi’s neck. There’s a humming now, right in his ear, a deep voice muttering some words here and there. Off key and off beat, but it’s a welcome distraction. His ribs ache, even if he’s been given awfully tasting medicine, his face still feels hot where he got slapped, and he doesn’t know when it happened, but one of his hands is also nastly scratched. Pain isn’t alien to him. He’s used to it, was raised with it, with the inevitability of eventually feeling it, at any point, at any time. It’s what happens when you’re a songbird and your eyes deteriorate as fast as an overripe persimmon left out into the sun. But that pain is expected, that pain is manageable, it’s such a constant of his life he almost can’t feel it anymore.</p>
<p>This pain is different. It’s born of betrayal and shame, of unfairness and spite. It makes him angry he got hurt, in the first place, it makes him furios someone else got hurt, as well, and it only adds to the dull ache spreading quietly across his body.</p>
<p>He tries to sneak a hand over his stomach, he wants to press into the spot, let the white hot sparks of it flash brighter, but every time he tries, Mingi entwines their fingers together and brings his knuckles against his lips. He doesn’t kiss them, not really. He just let them rest there, until he can’t feel Hwanwoong tug anymore. Then, he lets go, places the hand over his heart. Hwanwoong presses there instead, digs his finger into the soft flesh of Mingi’s pecs.</p>
<p> He wants to claw inside, hold his heart in his hand, just to feel better how it’s beating. If he concentrates enough, he can almost feel it pump the blood right under his palm, making it jump in a slow thump, thump, thump.</p>
<p>“Mingi, you need to leave.” Youngjo says, sitting down behind Hwanwoong. His words are careful, weighted. He doesn’t sound angry or upset, just that little bit too urgent to feel like a polite request.</p>
<p>“Let them be...” Seoho hisses, swatting at Youngjo’s shoulder.</p>
<p>If Hwanwoong had any will left in him to even try and follow the conversation, he would turn to look at them and ask <em>them</em> to leave. As it is, he just curls more into Mingi’s shoulder. Strong arms wrap around his waist, a cold nose brushes across his shoulder and soft lips kiss his collarbones. He hopes that’s answer enough.</p>
<p>“Mingi, the Lord will come. He will,” Youngjo insists. There’s a dip, and Mingi’s head is off his shoulder. Hwanwoong suspects Youngjo had Mingi look at him, “And when he gets there, not me, nor Seoho will be able to do anything about it.”</p>
<p>“He’s not touching Hwanwoong again.” Mingi states. His voice is calm, relaxed. It makes Hwanwoong shiver. “You’re not touching him either.”</p>
<p>“Now that’s ridiculous.” Youngjo protests.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, I think he’s right.” Seoho interjects. There’s an edge to his voice, sharp. “I think we need to go, get back to work and lock the door behind us. We’ll bring them dinner if they’re hungry, but that’s it.”</p>
<p>The bed dips again, but this time because Youngjo is standing back up. He’s arguing with Seoho, not even bothering controlling their voices. </p>
<p>“I sang for you again.” Hwanwoong murmurs. His voice sounds like sandpaper, and there’s a sharp bite between his eyes that tells him he’s about to get one hell of a headache. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Mingi shakes his head, kisses his cheeks sweetly. “Never apologise for that,” he says, “I’d rather come like this than not knowing you need help.”</p>
<p>“But you get groggy and weird. You’re like… this.” Hwanwoong complains, feeling a knot forming in his throat. He doesn’t think he has enough energy to cry again without passing out, but he also doesn’t think he can stop himself from doing it. “This isn’t my Mingi. He’s bright and loud, laughs hard and open. He stutters while talking when he gets too excited, blushes and hides his face when he tries to force himself to act cute and… and…” he makes a strangled sound before he’s crying again. At least this time is silent.</p>
<p>Mingi pulls back to cup his face. His hands are warm and the rhythmic movement of thumbs swiping over his cheekbones is soothing. Hwanwoong sighs, opening his eyes. </p>
<p>Mingi is staring back at him, and his eyes are much warmer and much clearer than what Hwanwoong was expecting. He looks so much like himself.</p>
<p>“Hyung, this is still me, I promise.” He says, a small smile pulling at his lips. “And I’m all yours.”</p>
<p>It’s a bad time for confessions, Hwanwoong thinks. He’s been ugly crying for the better part of an hour, Seoho and Youngjo are still arguing around the room, and his ribs just fucking hurts. </p>
<p>He brushes Mingi’s hair back, scratching at his scalp. Mingi smiles leaning into the touch.</p>
<p>“I love you.” Hwanwoong says, simply and quietly. He doesn’t even know if Mingi heard him, as he seems much too lost in being pet.</p>
<p>“I love you too.” Comes the answer, just as quiet.</p>
<p>It’s an awful time for confessions, so Hwanwoong kisses Mingi, and tells himself to do it again later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. vi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“His name is Kang Yeosang, he’s one year younger than me, has been raised in a university and is a songbird.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>finally! the guests of honor! they're here they're here!</p>
<p> also this chapter rating is M because someone is doing the horizzontal tango if you catch my drift ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week goes on extremely smoothly. By some grace of the universe, or just Hwanwoong’s powerful song, the Lord remembers little to none about what had happened during and after the dinner. When Youngjo asked, he answered that he only remembers being slightly annoyed. Hwanwoong hadn’t obeyed to his order, but he could always try another time. He didn’t mention San at all.</p>
<p>San, on the other hand, had been given extra days off and, according to Mingi, is taken very good care of.</p>
<p>“Yunho and Wooyoung took turns, he’s been cuddled so much he almost can’t stand it anymore. Which is quite telling, if you know him.” Mingi tells him. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong would love to keep Mingi with him every day. Sadly, of course, he has to make do with what little time they could steal here and there. At least, now they weren’t trying to hide it anymore. It is an electrifying kind of feeling, weird and unexpected, everytime they hold hands, hug or kiss, to just do it without worrying much about Seoho or Youngjo seeing. He wishes they could also just move around the palace together, freely, but the boot-shaped ache across his rib and stomach keeps them in check.</p>
<p>“He sounds so sweet...” Hwanwoong says. He curls closer to Mingi, who wraps an arm around him. He had come in just to bid him goodnight, but neither had resisted to cuddle a bit on the couch. “Can you tell him I’m sorry for having involved him?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to worry about that, he’s fine.” Mingi replies with a big smile. “He was actually very worried about you, but I reassured him you were doing good as well.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong smiles back, before pouting a bit. Ever since he learnt that would earn him a kiss immediately, he’s been pouting an awful lot lately. “What are the whispers in the servant quarters about, lately?”</p>
<p>“Me,” Ming answers, dramatically draping himself over Hwanwoong with a big sigh, “They can’t shut up about you.”</p>
<p>“You told them?” Hwanwoong asks, genuinely curious. He had always wondered if Mingi had ever talked about him to anyone else, what he might’ve said. He imagined him hiding his face, ears red, as his friends teased him without mercy, poking him with fingers and questions until he’d have to swat them away.</p>
<p>“Well… only to my friends. But everyone knows the Lord threw a scene and you were involved somewhat.” Mingi is now laying completely on top of Hwanwoong, head resting on his chest over crossed hands and looking at him as he tells his story. </p>
<p>“Currently, one half believe you tried to scam one of the guests out of their money and got found out, the other half thinks the Lord drank too much and mistook you for one of his strumpets.”</p>
<p>It took Hwanwoong a couple of seconds to process the words. “How does one even get such different conclusions for a situation that isn’t even close to any of them?!” He asks, totally baffled. He knows rumors travel fast and get awfully twisted along the way, but he’s never been the center of one in such a way. He knows the staff whispers about him, sure, but it’s either in awe or annoyance. </p>
<p>Mingi laughs. “I think the Raven has to do with that. I’m sure some had gotten the right facts at first, because I swear I’ve heard someone say you got kicked in the guts, but then!” he pushes up on his arms, caging Hwanwoong underneath, before continuing, “there were so many people telling one or the other! They took over completely and now everyone is just confused. I’m sure it was him, it's too - why are you looking at me like that?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong has not listened to a single word that came out of Mingi’s mouth. He looked up at him when Mingi pushed his torso up, which in reflex had also pushed his hips down, against Hwanwoong own, right between his legs.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong’s brain short circuits immediately, running a thousand miles a second, synapsis frying one after the other as a single, shocking, scandalous thought passes though. Mingi’s obviousness only makes it even more embarrassing, and Hwanwoong, trying to make up an excuse on the spot for the way his cheeks were so red they probably had turned purple, just manages to let out a strangled sound and hide his face in his hands.</p>
<p>Mingi, bless his soul, frowns down at him for a full minute, before finally connecting the dots. And once they are connected, his brain struggles to process any kind of information as well, since his first instinct is to try and get on his knees, which just pushes Hwanwoong’s legs more open, pulling another whine from him. They eventually manage to districate themselves, Hwanwoong curled up on his side facing the back of the couch, Mingi sitting close near his legs. </p>
<p>“I mean we can forget about it, you know, there’s no reason for us to even think about it. You know what? I haven’t had a single thought once in my life, I swear.” Mingi blurts out at once, with an arm thrown over the back of the couch in a casual pose. His face completely betrays his attempt of trying to look cool.</p>
<p>“Mingi, for once in your life, please…” Hwanwoong groans, looking at him with such fondness his cheeks hurt. “Shut the fuck up.”</p>
<p>Mingi wraps his arms around him, leaning his face close enough for their noses to touch. “I am bound by law to tell you, as one does, to make me.” </p>
<p>“Dweeb...” Hwanwoong murmurs, but he still pulls him down for a kiss. This time, as Mingi slips between his legs and leans over him, there’s much less embarrassment and a lot more excitement.</p>
<p>“Soon.” Mingi whispers, as he detaches himself reluctantly. </p>
<p>“Soon.” Hwanwoong mirrors, holding out his hand until their fingers slip free.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Little bird, I have a surprise for you!” The Lord says, cheerful and excited as soon as Hwanwoong steps inside his studio. Hwanwoong has met him plenty of times since the dinner, and not much had changed in the way he was treated, only it seemed like the Lord was becoming more insistent as time went on, and Hwanwoong had been having a hard time to say no or finding good enough excuses to avoid fulfilling his requests.</p>
<p>“Thank you, it wasn’t needed,” he says, trying to convey as much as he could that his words rang true. But of course, for one as blind and dense as his Lord, nothing reached, and he cooed at him.</p>
<p>“Nonsense. Remember when I told you about Myeongie’s friend?” The Lord continues, pacing around the room with books and papers in hand. “He’s coming earlier than expected! I just received a letter from his protector telling me they’ve just departed. A week, ten days tops and he’ll be here.”</p>
<p>There’s a lot of thoughts occupying Hwanwoong’s head. First, he wonders if Dongmyeong even knows his friend is coming by at all: he’s talked to him, these days, and never once he mentioned the songbird again. He also wonders what’s gotten the Lord so excited about him: is Hwanwoong not enough? Has he done such a poor job, all his years, that he needs to be replaced? But, right after it, comes the simple idea that maybe, just maybe, he can finally not worry as much, with all the attention upon the other songbird, and gain more freedom. He then wonders if the disastrous dinner he had been subjected to has some sort of connection to the visit. Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind there is always Mingi, fixed and obsessive, a steady presence. Every single thought, eventually, would lead back to him. In this specific case, Hwanwoong has his mind mostly settled on the way Mingi’s body weight felt over him and how to get to feel that again soon. Maybe the songbird would cause enough of a ruckus that everyone turned their head long enough for him and Mingi to get together.</p>
<p>“That’s lovely.” Hwanwoong says, not even trying to fake excitement. Not like his Lord is paying attention to him. “I’m sure Master Dongmyeong will be delighted.”</p>
<p>The Lord waved a hand in the air, clicking his tongue. “Yeah yeah, sure-  but we need to celebrate!” He says, finally finding what he had apparently been looking for. “So, as always, I was thinking you could dance and sing for him. What better welcome than showing off my best asset.” </p>
<p>Hwanwoong gets a booklet shoved in his hands, much bigger than a regular novel but very thin. It's a ballet script for Swan Lake. Of course it is. Even since he can remember Hwanwoong had always put on a performance of Swan Lake at least once a year, even if it was just a song and not the whole play, so it didn’t surprise him the Lord had chosen it to impress his newest guest.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong knows every single step by heart, could probably dance it flawlessly even asleep, and most of his stage outfits belonged to various performances of that play. He remembers the first time he had finally taken on the role of Odile, for the first time, after years of playing only Odette. It was his eighteenth birthday and he was dressed in soft velvet and shining crystals.</p>
<p>“I’d be delighted to perform this again.” Hwanwoong says, and this time he’s sincere. He has always loved dancing, and he was sure it was one of the few things the Lord couldn’t take away from him, no matter what. He thinks what Mingi would say about his Odette. He wonders what he’d think of his Odile.</p>
<p>“You’re lovely, my little bird. I will arrange the meetings with the tailors, we’re using the finest fabrics from our stocks and the best silvers and jewels.” The Lord says, grinning widely. He pinches Hwanwoong’s cheek and rests a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do a good job, right? Make me proud? Make Myeongie’s friend like us a lot? Who knows if you do, he might want to stay for a while, wouldn’t that be nice?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong hates the way those questions make him feel now. Before, he didn’t see anything bad about them, was very happy to be useful and make his Lord happy, but now he can hear the inflection, the twist in tone that makes the words slimy and ugly. He flinches a bit under the hold, covering it up as best as he can with a nod and an awkward smile. “Of course. I’ll do my best!”</p>
<p>The Lord changes expression subtly, so subtly that, if Hwanwoong hadn’t been looking for something, anything at all, that betrayed his warm and caring façade, that gave Mingi’s <em>they’re lying to you</em> more credit, he probably wouldn’t  have even noticed. His smile twitches, his eyes get that tad too cold. “You’re not going to disappoint me anymore, right? I’d hate to have to punish you again,” he murmurs, “I’m a merchant after all, I know better than most what damage does to the worth of your goods.”</p>
<p>When Hwanwoong gets out of the room, he feels nauseous.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“His name is Kang Yeosang, he’s one year younger than me, has been raised in a university and is a songbird.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong’s voice carries across the room to where Mingi is currently sorting out his closet with Seoho. It’s so weird for him to see the two of them interact, and judging by the way they dance around each other it’s still extremely awkward between them as well. It’s still much better than seeing Youngjo try to get along with Mingi without looking too much like he wants him anywhere but with Hwanwoong.</p>
<p>“Oh wow, just like you?” Seoho says, turning around, face open in awe.</p>
<p>“Is he blind too?” Mingi asks, tongue caught between his teeth as he meticulously folds a sheer, lace undershirt. </p>
<p>“I’m not blind. And no, he’s not, I’m sure someone would’ve mentioned it...” Hwanwoong replies, sighing. He’s curled up in an armchair, the songbird fairy tail book Youngjo had gotten him open on his knees. He’s been re-reading it nonstop ever since his meeting with the Lord. It was grounding, for him, something that he was familiar with, but also completely new, as he’d only read the censored version. “You should ask Dongmyeong about it, he apparently knows much more about this than me.”</p>
<p>Mingi walks up to him, crawling on top of him and trying to curl up in his lap. It’s a tight fit, even more difficult to pull off, as the chair is small and Mingi is mostly legs. Not to mention Hwanwoong is basically half his size. “Oof, you big baby, get off!” he groans, a knee crushing his crotch as Mingi turns around until he’s finally settled into a comfortable position for him. </p>
<p>“You were pouting, I came to cheer you up.” Mingi replies, matter-of-fact-ly.</p>
<p>“You came to crush my balls! Please, I can’t breathe?” Hwanwoong wheezes, but apparently his words fall on deaf ears, as Mingi wiggles again until he has his legs somewhat thrown over an arm, his head on Hwanwoong’s shoulder and his arms around his neck.</p>
<p>“You’re so cute.” Seoho giggles. Hwanwoong looks up at him, head tilted. Seoho smiles brightly at him, taking in a big breath, shaking his head as he goes on folding and moving clothes around. He looks a lot like a motherly figure, and Hwanwoong feels an extreme need to run up to him and hug him tightly. </p>
<p>Sadly, he’s currently being crushed by a whole Mingi, so he settles for shooting Seoho with a matching smile and hoping his feelings carry along as well.</p>
<p>After a while, his clothes have been arranged, the old ones ending up in a bag, the ones that need fixing in another. Mingi is about to grab one of the bags, but Seoho swats him away and gets it first. “I’ll be out with Jongho and the family until after dinner. Youngjo will be the one minding the house for me,” he says, looking at both of them, “We’re being subjected to hours of tedious clothes shopping and tailoring, because Gods forbid we wear the same dress as that one other time some years ago when this new guest who’s never seen us comes by.”</p>
<p>Mingi and Hwanwoong share a confused look. They already knew about that, everyone knew. It was kind of useless for Seoho to repeat himself again.</p>
<p>And yet.</p>
<p>“I won’t be here. Youngjo will be very busy.” Seoho repeats, opening the door to Hwanwoong’s room with a foot. “Me gone. Youngjo busy.”</p>
<p>The sound Mingi makes can easily be mistaken for a boiling kettle, while Hwanwoong throws a shoe with all his strength. Seoho avoids it swiftly, simply by closing the door behind himself, laughing on his way down the stairs.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong can feel his cheeks redden more and more each second there’s silence between them. He doesn’t even dare try to take a peek at Mingi, even though he imagines he’s more or less in the same predicament. It’s not like they haven’t tried to get some time alone for themselves, there has always just been something else coming up, or the sense of impending doom looming over them hard enough to ruin the mood.</p>
<p>There’s a hand coming up at the small of his back, warm and big, and he leans against it. Mingi wraps him in a hug, kissing the top of his head. “I… like, I mean… we don’t have to...” Mingi murmurs, cupping Hwanwoong’s face and peppering kissing all over his cheeks. “It’d be so, so good and nice and I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it...”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong snorts.</p>
<p>“Several times,” Mingi adds, “Especially late at night. And early in the morning. Alone in the bathroom, mostly.”</p>
<p>“That is…” Hwanwoong says, voice breaking just as his mind provides him the very useful image of a desperate, naked, seepy Mingi, biting into the meat of his hand, to avoid making too much noise as he jerks off in the shower. He immediately regrets letting the thought run unchecked, because now he’s in the shower too, naked as well and-</p>
<p>Mingi kisses him, gentle and soft, making Hwanwoong’s hurried thoughts slowly die down. He’s pushed back, until his legs hit the bed. He blindly tries to graciously climb over it without stopping kissing Mingi, which only makes it sloppier but neither mind. Hwanwoong lets Mingi lead, push him against the plush pillows by the headboard, lets him nudge his legs open. Hwanwoong whines, throwing his head to the side as Mingi kisses across his jaw and down over the exposed line of his neck.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong’s hands curl into the fabric of Mingi’s shirt, untucking it from his trousers. His hands slip naturally underneath, feeling the warmth of Mingi’s skin to skin. “You’re so pretty,” Mingi tells him, speaking right against his pulse. It’s not the first time he’s been told so, but it’s the first time it lights a fire right into his bloodstream. </p>
<p>“S-sorry...” Hwanwoong stutters, while Mingi pulls back and starts fighting against the ribbons and buttons and hooks of his shirt. He reaches to help, hands trembling with distress and excitement.</p>
<p>Mingi shakes his head, sits back on his heels and pulls off his shirt in one move, throwing it somewhere on the floor. His hands fly to the buttons of his trousers, but Hwanwoong stops him. “Not yet.” he murmurs, pulling him back down for another wet kiss, as he finally manages to slip out of his damned shirt. Mingi licks into his mouth, slow and unhurried, so much in contrast with the way his hands are caressing Hwanwoong’s back, all nails and need. </p>
<p>“You’re pretty, too.” Hwanwoong says, pulling back enough to take a proper look at the man over him. He places a hand over his chest, feeling Mingi’s heart pound under his palm, and it makes him feel less nervous knowing that his one is not the only one racing wildly.</p>
<p>They spend some time exploring each other, learning what makes the other whine and arch against their lips and fingers. Hwanwoong finds he likes having his neck and collarbones kissed and bitten, gentle and wet, and that Mingi becomes a sighing, whining mess when he gets the inside of his thighs and the back of his neck scratched, by nails or teeth it doesn’t seem to matter . Hwanwoong is shy and scared when they finally let the last of their clothes join the rest on the floor. He curls up on himself, trying not to feel as exposed, but Mingi is there to kiss him and slowly uncoil him, until they are  once again skin to skin, not an inch of space between them from head to toe.</p>
<p>Mingi is careful, handling him with such grace Hwanwoong feels like something more precious than all the jewels and riches in the palace, and only stops kissing him when he wants to whisper in his ears.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong cries, at some point, and so does Mingi. They cry, but those are  happy tears, overwhelmed and relieved, as they move together, slowly, soon forgotten into the heat of the moment. They hold tightly onto one another, Mingi’s warm, big hands on Hwanwoong’s back, Hwanwoong’s legs wrapped loosely around Mingi’s waist. It doesn’t take long for either of them to come, to strain against the tight coil of pleasure finally snapping, nails scratching and digging into the meat of their shoulders, moans cutting off into hushed whispers. It’s overpowering, and searing, and relieving, and liberating. At once, both of them are submerged, helplessly, by an overwhelming wave of sensations unknown to them before, rattling their bodies as they chase every last inch of pleasure they can grasp onto, wholeheartedly, before the shockwaves animating their bodies cease and they are left feeling breathless and alive, like never before, finding comfort in the embrace with which they envelope one another.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong curls on top of Mingi, loose and sated. “I feel like my heart it’s gonna burst...” he murmurs, when Mingi opens his eyes to look at him. They’re dark and warm, full of mirth. </p>
<p>“Look, I know you like me, but I couldn’t have been that good.” Mingi replies, laughing halfway into the sentence himself as Hwanwoong swats playfully at him. “Ah, we should’ve done it with the curtains of your bed closed, that would have been more romantic.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong hums, rolls around and pulls the curtains of his canopy bed closed, the faint light of late afternoon slipping in only through the holes and sheer of the lace trims. Hwanwoong blinks into the newfound shade, feeling the muscles around his eyes relax immediately. He never realizes how much he’s straining his eyes until he’s in the dark again, and he purrs as he crawls back towards Mingi again. “There you go, more romantic.” He straddles his thighs, hands over Mingi’s hips for balance. “Better?”</p>
<p>Mingi swallows, nodding enthusiastically. “Your eyes are so pretty in the dark…” he stutters, brushing his hands over Hwanwoong’s thighs. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong leans down to kiss him as thanks.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The sky is bright white, wind howling against the glass of his room. Hwanwoong shivers, trying to slip into his clothes faster to avoid staying in his underwear for too long. It doesn’t really work, as he’s currently being dressed by Seoho, who keeps swatting at him every time he moves.</p>
<p>They’ve been at it for an hour, going through at least three outfits, already, since the Lord wasn’t satisfied with them. Now they’re trying for the last time, with a skin tight pair of leather pants and a backless lace shirt. </p>
<p>“I’ll freeze like this.” Hwanwoong complains, seeing the garment. Seoho groans, but thinks about it, leaving Hwanwoong to wrap his arms around his naked torso. </p>
<p>“Oh, you’re right, let me see what I can do...” Seoho says, heading back to the closet, just as the door of the room swings open. Youngjo walks in, mid sentence, but stops immediately when he sees Hwanwoong on top of a stool, furiously rubbing his arms for some warmth. </p>
<p>“Seoho, why are you leaving him naked?!” Youngjo hurries, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Hwanwoong.</p>
<p>Seoho emerges from the closet, with a sheer piece of folded fabric, rhinestones twinkling as he carries it along, that Hwanwoong recognizes as a long sleeved, turtleneck leotard. Not like it’ll help that much, but it’s better than nothing. “Oh, he’ll be fine, stop babying him,” Seoho scoffs, throwing the coat on the ground without any care, “He’s an adult now. Through and through.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong blushes bright red, about to argue with Seoho, but Youngjo steps in faster. “Why don’t you go gather the staff and come back when you’re done being a bitch?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong doesn’t really know what goes on between his friends now: he’s been cut out of that particular conversation and hasn’t really tried keeping up, as mostly they would just keep bickering like an old couple. He ignores Seoho’s rebuttal, stepping down and gathering his clothes to dress by himself, adding an off the shoulder sweater to the look in the hopes of warming up. It’s nothing fancy enough to make him require any help, just the buttons behind the neck result somewhat of a challenge, tiny and slippery as they are. His ears pick up bits and pieces of the argument going on behind him, as he sits down at his vanity and browses through the accessories in his possession, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings, pins and whatnots. </p>
<p>It takes him ten minutes to finalize his look and just as much to touch up his makeup. His eyes are lined in black and there’s a thin layer of sparkling powder/shadow over his lids. He takes one of the lipstick tins Youngjo brought back from one of his travels, dabs it evenly over his lips with his ring finger. He’s smacking his lips together when his eyes meet Youngjo’s figure, reflected on the surface of the mirror. “Are you done? Both of you?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.</p>
<p>“We have to be, the songbird has arrived at the gates.” Youngjo replies. Hwanwoong can see Seoho trying to compose himself in the background. He can’t tell if he’s angry or sad but, either way, he’d rather see him happy, instead. </p>
<p>He turns around, brushes non-existent dust off his trousers. “Will Mingi be there?” he asks in a whisper, like it would make a difference in the answer if he had spoken out loud.</p>
<p>Youngjo links arms with him. “No. He’s been explicitly asked to not even get out of the dorms.” </p>
<p>“By who?!” </p>
<p>“Me. Not negotiable.” Youngjo says, and then the three of them walk swiftly downstairs.</p>
<p>There’s an excited buzz all over the palace, everyone is gossipping and chatting, the kind of energy that always blossoms when things like parties or visits happen. Hwanwoong isn’t affected, feeling more nervous than ever, as staff and guests alike step back when he walks by. </p>
<p>In the entrance, the family is already waiting, the Lord and Lady amicably chatting with someone who Hwanwoong recognizes as a distant relative. Dongmyeong is pacing in front of the entrance, a big smile on his face, while Dongju stays quietly aside, Jongho next to him. When the Lord sees them, he immediately cheers and leaves his wife’s side to come and greet him.</p>
<p>“Little bird, finally! I was worried you’d miss the entrance, they’re just outside.” he says, roughly grabbing Hwanwoong by the arm and dragging him in the middle of the family group, between Dongmyeong and Dongju.</p>
<p>“Hyung! He’s here!” Dongmyeong whispers at him, and then whips his head around as the doors open.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong’s teeth clatter as the cold wind envelops him and the rest of the people gathered to watch, while three people hurry inside, accompanied by one of the palace guards.</p>
<p>There’s a beautiful, tall man with dark hair and mischievous eyes, clad in a wine red cloak. His laugh echoes throughout the entrance, clear and warm. He’s clapping his hands and patting the guard’s back, saying something along the lines of ‘Oh, what a fine, young man you are.’ </p>
<p>Beside him, another man is collecting the coat of the third one, and as soon as he turns to look at the little crowd gathered to welcome them, Hwanwoong knows by something deeper than instinct that that is the songbird. Yeosang.</p>
<p>Yeosang is pretty, beautiful in a way Hwanwoong is not used to, with soft, wavy, honey blond hair curling over his ears, a gold circlet with pearls sitting prettily on top. He’s in a satin shirt with a red collar, gold chains dangling from the tips and looping around his shoulders, red corduroy, high waisted trousers with gold details, and white leather boots that stop over his knees, laced in the back. His eyes are a lovely shade of lilac, and they bear into Hwanwoong's.</p>
<p>If he was already struggling with keeping his eyes open because of the lights all around and the sharp reverberation of the light against the white sky, now he’s struggling even more  to not look away. He’s never really had to question his position, he’s been the only songbird at the palace ever, he has also been always pretty confident in his looks, but now, with Yeosang in the flesh standing in front of him, he’s beginning to feel somewhat self conscious and second guessing his position.</p>
<p>“Welcome to our humble abode!” The Lord greets with open arms his guests, one hand trying to keep Dongmyeong in place. “I didn’t realize you would be visiting too, Mr Kim.” There’s a hint of annoyance in his words, that only Hwanwoong seems to pick up.</p>
<p>The beautiful man laughs again, shaking his head and waving a hand in the air as if to physically dismiss the words. “Please, the name’s Seokjin and, since I managed to free myself for a couple of days, I thought I could accompany my child.” Yeosang rolls his eyes quietly, but accepts the affectional side hug Seokjin gives him with just as much warmth. </p>
<p>“Is this him? I’ve heard so much about him from my Dongmyeong.” The Lord steps closer, bringing Dongmyeong with him. “Hello, Yeosang, I’m the Lord of his palace and I welcome you in my home.”</p>
<p>Yeosang bows his head, and then turns to look at the third person of his entourage. The man smiles, pulling his hands in front of his chest and starts signing. He mouths along to some words, Yeosang sings back nodding.</p>
<p>“Hello, my name is Park Seonghwa. I’m Yeosang’s interpreter, and just like him, I’m happy to meet Master Dongmyeong and his family. Thank you for having us, my Lord.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong feels a shiver traveling down his spine, cold and harsh, as he watches the expression of pure delight on his Lord’s face fade and fall into confusion and then realization. He feels a sense of dread wrap around his throat and he looks to Dongju, hoping to find some reassurance, but the boy is looking with a curious expression at Seonghwa’s hands and then Yeosang. He realizes no one seems to feel any kind of impending doom and are all just endeared by the notion that the songbird is deaf.</p>
<p>He turns to Youngjo, who’s completely obvious to his distress, and much more concentrated on the way Seoho is chatting along with the guard, with a soft smile and a hand placed on his bicep. </p>
<p>The Lord gestures to his wife, who bows in exaggerated curtsy and giggles, as she introduces herself.  “This is my lovely wife. We’ve been happily together for thirty years, and this place wouldn’t look this good without her keen eye and expertise on interior decoration,” he says, waiting for Seonghwa to translate before going on, “And you already know my studious child, Dongmyeong.”</p>
<p>“Hyung! Hi! Hello!” Dongmyeong greets, finally slipping away from his father’s grip to go hug his friend. Yeosang smiles as Dongmyeong too tries to sign, much slower than Seonghwa, but apparently as accurate, as both guests clap in approval once he’s done. “I’ve practiced a bit, but didn’t have any way to check if I was doing it right, so it might be a bit sloppy…” he pouts, smiling once again as Seonghwa replies with a smile.</p>
<p>“Yes, lovely.” The Lord interrupts, awkwardly pulling his son back and then tugging Hwanwoong in his place. “And this is my pride and joy, my little jewel. I raised him like a son - I’m sure you’ll understand, Seokjin - my little bird, Hwanwoong.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong doesn’t like it.</p>
<p>He doesn’t like the breath Dongju sucks in behind him, the way Yeosang squints his eyes at him, or how Seokjin tilts his head in his direction. He doesn’t like the iron grip his Lord has on his arm, nails digging into his flesh, through the fabric of his shirt, hard enough he’s sure it’ll rip.</p>
<p>He doesn’t like the way Seonghwa mouths ‘little bird’, one eyebrow raised, his mouth askew in a smirk.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong bows, looking anywhere but at the newcomers. “Hello, my name is Yeo Hwanwoong. I’m the palace’s songbird. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us.” He stutters, and each hiccup earns him a sting in the arm and a glare by his Lord. He shoots his eyes to Seoho, who’s still chatting with the guard, and then to Youngjo again, who now is looking at him, but his eyes are far away.</p>
<p>Seonghwa signs to Yeosang, but something seems off: it’s taking too long. He’s about to brush it off as paranoia, but then Yeosang replies, and there’s a quick back and forth between them before Seonghwa turns, smiles, and says: “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Silence stretches for that second too long to feel comfortable, before Dongmyeong pushes him away to get between him and Yeosang. “Hyung, come, this is Dongju, my twin!” He says, taking Yeosang by the arm. Hwanwoong notices that he’s speaking slowly, enunciating every syllab properly, and Yeosang watches closely. Seonghwa bows again, says his goodbyes and turns, following them.</p>
<p>“Well, my Lord, I’m absolutely beat - the weather was awful and the road was a mess, I wouldn’t mind refreshing a bit.” Seokjin says, kicking the luggage at his feet. “Would you mind showing us  our rooms?”</p>
<p>The Lord blinks twice, before putting back his usual smile. His grip on Hwanwoong doesn’t loosen one bit, even as he starts leading the way. “Of course! Forgive my rudeness.” He says “I’ve sadly only prepared our best two rooms on the guest floor, not knowing you would’ve joined as well...”</p>
<p>Seokjin picks up a bag, leaving the rest to the guard. “Ah, worry not, two are enough. I think Hwa’s used his room a grand total of twice this whole year…”</p>
<p>The grip on Hwanwoong’s arm tightens to the point of hearing fabric tear.</p>
<p>He bites the inside of his cheek to avoid making any sound.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He trusts both Seoho and The Raven will be there for Hwanwoong, even though he doesn’t really trust them around each other - he doesn’t know what’s going on exactly, but he, too, can see some feathers were ruffled and Seoho is coming out on top - and he knows nothing about Yeosang or the Lord’s twisted plans for him.</p>
<p>“What if we steal the maids outfit and do your make up like them and then you just hunch over and speak like you’re old!” San says, frowning like he’s actually considering it a decent plan of action.</p>
<p>Mingi cups his face and squishes his cheeks, making his lips pucker. “Sanie, it’s okay. I won’t go, I don’t need to.” He repeats, as he's been doing for the better part of fifteen minutes. “I can see hyung tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“But he might want to see you now!” San slurs, words squished too, sticking his tongue out like an overexcited cat.</p>
<p>Mingi is glad his friends have been nothing but supportive about him and Hwanwoong. They felt confused and unsure, at first, but they  were also very happy for him. San had pulled him aside and gave a whole speech too, telling Mingi about the incident with the Lord from his perspective and how grateful he was to Hwanwoong and how he wished nothing but the best for the both of them.</p>
<p>“San, leave it. The Raven himself came to tell him to stay put.” Yunho interjects, pulling San into his arms. “It’s better if Mingi doesn’t anger him.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how scary he can be, but I’m not really worried about him.” Mingi says “I just don’t want to do something that would put Hwanwoong in trouble. Again.”</p>
<p>Mingi does want to go see Hwanwoong, to be there by his side as he meets Yeosang, making sure he has proper support as he deals with the Lord’s bullshit. Seoho has taken him and San off duty for the day even before The Raven came, and he has begged and pleaded with him for days to no avail, at least to let San on duty. When that failed, he hunted down Jongho and, once they were alone, he made him promise that, if at any point Hwanwoong seemed uncomfortable or about to be sick, he would take care of him.</p>
<p>He sighs, big and exaggerated, sitting beside Yunho, who now has San in his lap. They are in the common room of the servants quarters, a big living room with a small fireplace, now lit and barely kept alive. Wooyoung is working in the kitchens with Keonhee and the only one missing is Hongjoong, who has been sneaking into the palace on and off for a while, thinking no one noticed, and tonight isn’t any different. Mingi barely has time to wonder out loud where he disappeared to, that he appears next to them, fresh from a hot shower, hair still damp.</p>
<p>“What’s the buzz?” He asks, smiling, as he curls up beside Mingi, immediately slipping his feet under his thighs.</p>
<p>“We’re moping because Jongho gets to be at dinner with the newcomers and we don’t.” all three of them answer, at the same time. Mingi told his roommates he didn’t know if it would be wise to let even more people know about his new relationship. Especially since they don’t know what Hongjoong is doing around in the palace. His bets are on a secret affair with someone, maybe one of the guards, but one can never be too careful in that place, where even the walls seem to have ears and eyes. It’s really surprising that Hongjoong hasn’t been caught and reprimanded by the Ravn yet, zealous as he is when it comes to servants attending to their duties and staying out of the palace’s business.</p>
<p>Hongjoong smiles at them. “Sounds cool, can I join?” He asks.</p>
<p>As his friends start chatting again, Mingi closes his eyes and cuddles closer, pulling a blanket over himself. He lets their voices lull him half asleep, soothing his worry that, despise all the reasoning he can do, is building fast. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>The next day Mingi wakes up at his usual time, half smothered by San, who somewhat ended up sleeping on him during the night. He washes up and gets dressed, has breakfast with everyone.</p>
<p>He checks his duties for the day, passes by the kitchens to steal some cookies and, only when he’s procrastinated enough he doesn’t have any good excuses to keep stalling, he looks up the stairs, sighing, and takes the first step.</p>
<p>When he opens the door to Hwanwoong’s room, the first thing he notices is that it’s clad in darkness. He walks to the bed patting on the covers trying to feel if Hwanwoong was still sleeping, but only finds  his discarred pajamas. </p>
<p>“Hyung?” He calls, as he folds them. There’s a muffled sound coming from the en suite bathroom, and then retching. Mingi’s stomach twists and he rushes towards the room.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong is on the floor, grimacing right next to the toilet. His hair is a mess and his make up is all smudged, clothes crumpled. He looks up at Mingi with red, shiny eyes. “Hey...” He greets him.</p>
<p>“Hey…” Mingi echoes back, slowly approaching him. He sits down and Hwanwoong easily and immediately comes into his arms. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Breakfast.” Hwanwoong answers, sniffing. “It was awful, I was feeling nauseous, but had to eat anyway… Not the best idea, I think I just threw it all up.” He smushes his face against Mingi’s chest, clearly trying to clean up all traces of tears and vomit. Mingi doesn’t even think of telling him to stop. “The Lord is so, so mad that Yeosang is deaf... He took it as a personal offence. Of course, this is my fault as well, somehow, and now I have to find a way to still sing to him, so that he ends up liking him!”</p>
<p>Mingi wants to pay attention, really, but he’s much more concerned about getting Hwanwoong off the floor and cleaned up. He picks him up gently, with little to no resistance, placing him on the counter as Hwanwoong keeps ranting.</p>
<p>“I don’t like any of this, I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my own skin…” Hwanwoong whines, as Mingi uses a damp towel to wash his face of any trace left of vomit and make up, snot and tears. “Has it always been this bad? Would it have been this bad, if Youngjo hyung hadn’t somewhat tried to protect me? Where would I be, if he didn’t? ...I’m so scared, Mingi… What if I fail? What if I can’t find a way?”</p>
<p>“Hey, you know there’s plenty of people who won’t let anything happen to you, right?” Mingi says, cupping Hwanwoong’s face in his hands and resting their foreheads together. “Not just me, but Seoho, The Raven and Dongju, as well.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about that. Youngjo hyung is probably still upset with me, and I’m pretty sure Dongju hates me guts.” Hwanwoong replies, curling small and unsure.</p>
<p>“You don’t even believe that, do you?” Mingi replies, kissing his nose. He pulls Hwanwoong back on his feet and out the door. “The Raven is just a control freak who lost control very quickly and all at once, probably anxious about his own life too. Dongju is…” Mingi stops, sighing. “I can ask Jongho about him, if it would make you feel less upset.”</p>
<p>“You’d do that for me?” Hwanwoong asks, looking up at him. He doesn’t look as bad as when Mingi first found him, the redness of his eyes almost gone. </p>
<p>“I’d do anything for you.” Mingi answers. Yet, since it seems like the message hasn’t really come across properly, he stops Hwanwoong from getting to his vanity and pulls him into a hug. “Hwanwoong, I don’t think you understand. I would do anything for you. I’m not saying this just for the sake of saying it or because it feels like the right thing to say now. I’m saying it because I mean it.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong glances at Mingi, brows in a frown, and Mingi can see his thinking process by the way his eyes move and twitch. “I want to go away.” He finally says, then repeats, with a bit more conviction, with a lot more resolve. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”</p>
<p>Mingi kisses him, already seeing them both running away into the night, but, as he pulls, Hwanwoong’s expression is, once again, back to being sullen and defeated. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Where would I go? I don’t have any family or friends. I have you and the hyungs… and you’re all here.” Hwanwoong murmurs, shaking his head. </p>
<p>He sits down in front of the vanity and immediately starts to fiddle with the make up pouches. Mingi sits down beside him, on a pouf he dragged along. He watches Hwanwoong clean his face again and get into his makeup, fascinated with the movements and the precision. He’s not one to wear makeup, even if Wooyoung had brought along some and had offered to do it for him more than once. He and San like black pencil smudged around their eyes, maybe some color on their lips, if they feel fancy. Hwanwoong, instead, uses a lot of different shades, brushes and tools, carefully building a gradient over his lids. Not to mention, the sparkles! Mingi knows Hwanwoong likes shimmers and glitter, as he wears them often, and more than once he got distracted watching the light catch and flicker over his lids. </p>
<p>“Should I go for a dark shade or a lighter one for the lips?” Hwanwoong asks him, with a teasing smile, shaking Mingi out of his trance.</p>
<p>“Do they taste different?” Mingi asks, smiling back and leaning in. </p>
<p>“Mingi, for as much as I understand and support your relationship with Hwanwoong, I’d like you to remember you should be working right now and there’s only so many excuses I can pull out of my butt.” Seoho says, walking into the room just as Mingi is about to kiss Hwanwoong. “I need you on kitchen duty: the Lord wants brunch.” </p>
<p>Mingi opens his mouth to protest, but Hwanwoong simply sighs and turns back to the mirror. It hurts seeing him like this.</p>
<p>“Sorry, you’re right.” Mingi murmurs, bowing his head in embarrassment. “I’ll try to be back tonight.” He tells Hwanwoong, kissing his head before walking to the door.</p>
<p>“Actually, you won’t.” Seoho says, shaking his head. “Woongie has to prepare for the show.”</p>
<p>“What show?” Mingi and Hwanwoong say at the same time.</p>
<p>“Swan Lake. The Lord wants it to be ready for this weekend.” Seoho replies, and continues over Hwanwoong’s sputtering protests. “Yes, I know, too early, but he wants to show it to Mr Kim. I’m sure you know why don’t you?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong becomes silent immediately, curling into himself. He looks small, fragile, like he’d fit in the palm of his hands. Mingi lingers at the door, unsure if he can go console Hwanwoong, hug him until he feels better, confident once again. But Seoho is standing right between them, hands on his hips, and looking at him with an apologetic smile. Mingi knows Seoho would let him, if he thought it’d help.</p>
<p>“I’m going.” Mingi murmurs, and Hwanwoong looks up with a soft smile, waving at him. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.”</p>
<p>He’s sure his heart shouldn’t be doing so many summersaults, he shouldn’t feel so relieved and elated for those few words, but he does. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi has never been in the part of the palace where the family lives. He knows there’s mostly bedrooms, guest rooms and bathrooms, a library and a small sunroom where Dongju has his afternoon tea. He knows this from words of mouth, but as he walks the halls he’s completely lost.</p>
<p>“Hello.” A voice calls, from around a corner. Mingi turns and sees Jongho, jacket off and sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair is a bit ruffled and he’s holding a tray with empty plates and dirty glasses.</p>
<p>“Oh, hey! I was looking for you.” Mingi says, approaching him. Jongho nods, and starts walking once again, Mingi following suit.</p>
<p>“How’s it going at the dorms? I haven’t seen the other hyungs much, but I heard The Raven visited.” Jongho asks.</p>
<p>“Hongjoong asks about you the most but I know San, Wooyoung and Yunho miss you just as much. We’re happy you’re okay though.” Mingi answers, before he looks Jongho over again. “You are, right?”</p>
<p>Jongho doesn’t answer right away. He keeps looking in front of himself as they walk, and Mingi wishes he had enough time to get to know him well enough to at least guess what he is thinking about.</p>
<p>“Dongju isn’t feeling well. He hasn’t for a while but yesterday was very, very bad.” Jongho finally speaks, and Mingi can hear the difference in his voice, now softer and gentler. He’s confiding in him. “His father is a piece of shit. Yeosang seems like an asshole, but I think it’s just an act. Hwanwoong seems ready to crawl out his skin at any moment. Dongmyeong is…” Jongho breaths deeply, lets out a long sigh. “It’s just, it feels no one is even seeing Dongju even though he’s right there. And I hate seeing him in pain.”</p>
<p>Mingi wonders when Jongho developed feelings for the young master, at which point along the line serving him had become meaning much more, and how no one noticed. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t know.”</p>
<p>Jongho waves a hand. “There was no way for you to, Dongju doesn’t really show it.”</p>
<p>“I mean, that you like him.” Mingi interrupts. </p>
<p>Jongho stops, turning to look in his eyes for the first time. “You weren’t there. He literally shattered in my arms. I don’t think he was even breathing.” He says. “I… I don’t know about <em>liking</em>. But I don’t want to see him like that ever again.”</p>
<p>Mingi nods. He’s been always straightforward with his feelings, letting himself feel them freely and fully, so he doesn’t know if he’s reading too much into what Jongho is telling him, but when he looks in his eyes he wonders if his look is the same when he’s talking about Hwanwoong. “Do you think he hates Hwanwoong?”</p>
<p>Jongho frowns, starts walking again. “No. Dongju might resent him a bit, but he’s just… sad.” He says. “It’s hard to feel replaced your whole life, and seeing the one who took your spot every day only makes it harder for him to let go of his resentment. Does Hwanwoong think Dongju hates him?”</p>
<p>“Kind of. I’m glad that’s not the case.” Mingi says. He realizes they’ve gone back to the kitchens, where Mingi has spent the last few hours washing dishes, pots and pans. Jongho leaves the tray by one of the sinks and calls for one of the kitchen ladies. He tells them if they can make Dongju soup for dinner, thanking them for their hard work. He walks up to Mingi again.</p>
<p>“I don’t really care much about the family, the job or the palace, now.” Jongho whispers. “I care about Dongju. And I care about you hyungs too - even if we’ve haven’t been around each other much lately.”</p>
<p>Mingi understands. He knows that what Jongho is saying means that, if the moment to pick sides, or make big decisions, should ever occur he has his priorities already sorted out. Mingi realizes he has too, for a while. “When he’s feeling better, maybe he and Hwanwoong can talk.” Mingi tells him. “Settle their differences. I think it’ll be better than staying upset at one another.”</p>
<p>“I think so too.” Jongho agrees, before bowing and walking away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. vii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mingi isn’t really familiar with anger. He’s not one to get angry, at most he’s disappointed. Sad. He might be annoyed and petty, yes but he thinks he’s never been angry for long.</p><p>He’s furious now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello! meet the fancy songbird and his lovely by!! also the lord is once again a disgusting little man! </p><p>this chapter is rated M because hwangi can't keep their hands off each other smh</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Kang Yeosang is damn pretty. He looks a lot like a little prince, someone you’d be afraid to even look at because their presence is just so stunning. Mingi watches curiously as he sits elegantly in the armchair, his interpreter, Seonghwa, perched over one of the arms. He’s got a golden circlet with small, sheer, white roses, golden eyeshadow, golden rings and earrings with withe pearls accents. They shine gold like his hair. </p><p>“Tea, master Yeosang?” Mingi asks, bowing to place the tray with the teapot and cups on the coffee table in front of them. “We brewed a special mix with red fruits.”</p><p>Yeosang smiles, nodding, as his interpreter finishes translating, and Mingi pours him a cup and pushes the tray with freshly baked cookies and scones towards them.</p><p>“Sangie asks that you don’t call him master, he’s not part of the family of your employers.” Seonghwa says, taking a cookie for himself. “Makes him feel a bit awkward.”</p><p>“I apologise, that was not my intention.” Mingi replies, bowing. He’s not really been around the family much to know how to act when people who are definitely more important than him are present. Maybe he would, if he hadn’t somewhat strangely befriended The Raven and Seoho and ended up burning all steps present between employers to somewhat-friends. “How should I address you?”</p><p>“Just Yeosang is fine.” Seonghwa answers, without even looking at the songbird. “Sir, if that makes you more comfortable, but I feel he’ll just think you’re being sarcastic. Or frisky.”</p><p>Mingi doesn’t know if he should feel offended or not. He feels a bit like both men are taking the piss out of him and he’s not witty enough to be sure, but he also wonders if he thinks that due to what he heard about them from Hwanwoong and Jongho. “Noted. Is there anything else I can do for you?”</p><p>Yeosang perks up, patting Seonghwa’s thigh to get his attention. He quickly signs with one hand and a half, his right one still holding the teacup, but manages to get his point across, as Seonhwa nods. “He’s asking if you call the other songbird master too.”</p><p>Mingi is a bit surprised by the question. “Yes, that’s how we’re to address Master Hwanwoong.”</p><p>Yeosang smirks as he takes his next sip, and Seonghwa speaks for him again. “In bed, too?”</p><p>Mingi’s blood runs cold.</p><p>Yeosang puts down the cup again and starts signing, Seonghwa translating in real time: “We heard him talk about you to Lord Raven, or better, we <em>eavesdropped.</em> Sorry, but they were just there behind the corner, you know?” They smirk, probably amused by his growing anxiety, maybe also delighted about his panic. “We’re just curious. Your Lord seems obsessively overprotective about him, it seems unlikely he’d let you two mess around. He doesn’t know, does he?”</p><p>Mingi isn’t very good at reading people or their intentions. He’s a good kid at heart and always sees the best first. Still, he has some sort of fine tuning he can follow, when meeting someone for the first time, an instinct that rarely has been wrong. It happened with San, Wooyoung and Yunho the first day of work, stepping into his room and immediately feeling safe at home. It happened with Hwanwoong, feeling his soul sing in tune with his, telling him that yes, this boy is the one. It happened with the Lord too, seeing him as a man completely blinded by power and money. But now he’s coming up blank. He cannot say with certainty that Yeosang and Seonghwa are mean or malicious, he can’t be sure they’re taunting him, almost threatening, because something else tells him that there must be more.</p><p>But maybe it’s only his wishful thinking.</p><p>He doesn’t have time to come up with an answer, because a voice is booming through the room as Mr Kim enters, arm in arm with Dongmyeong. “Oh, teatime! Good, I thought I almost missed it.” He says smiling. Dongmyeong greets the songbird and Seonghwa, waving at Mingi too.</p><p>“You seem uncomfortable, son, did these two give you a bad time?” Mr Kim asks, patting him soundly on the back, side eyeing the couple who’s battling their eyelashes pretending like nothing really happened.</p><p>“Not at all sir, I’m sorry if I gave this impression.” Mingi answers immediately, bowing, mostly to collect his expression, rather than out of politeness. He comes back up with a smile on his lips, and there’s a look in Mr Kim's eyes that he once again can’t really place when they lock glances.</p><p>“You tell me if they do, okay? We might be guests, but this is no excuse to tease you.”</p><p>Mingi doesn’t know about Seonghwa and Yeosang. Maybe it’s their intrinsic complicity, the way they seem so in tune with one another, always together, and the uncertainty of being in a strange palace, guests of a strange man, with who knows what intentions, that is clouding his judgement and throwing his radar off course. But Mingi likes Kim Seokjin a lot. He feels like trusting him seems the best course of action, and that he won’t regret it. </p><p>So he bows again. “Let me go get some more sweets, our bakers made everyone’s favourite cherry pie and I’m sure you’ll love it.” He says, picking up the tray.</p><p>“Can you bring one to Dongju too? I heard he’s still sick, but I know he won’t refuse a piece.” Dongmyeong asks. He has a couple big tomes on his knees and is slowly paging through one of them. There’s pictures of hands and words inside.</p><p>“I will.” Mingi promises, and finally turns to walk back to the kitchens. As he leaves the room, he hears Mr Kim ask Dongmyeong about his father, and hears Seonghwa pitching in a question himself. </p><p>
  <em>I want to go away. </em>
</p><p>Mingi starts seeing an escape route.</p><p>---</p><p>The buzz for a party seems so familiar to him, bringing him back to the first time he saw Hwanwoong perform. He’s heard him sing plenty of times since then, laying his head on his lap and slowly slipping into a comfortable dreamless sleep lulled by Hwanwoong’s voice. He’s seen him dance too, twirling around in his room humming a melody, pulling Mingi in with a hand and trying to teach his long uncoordinated limbs, surprisingly managing to most of the time.</p><p>But now the buzz seems to have multiplied tenfold, ever since it has been announced three days from now. Not only because, apparently, Swan Lake seems to be everyone’s favorite three hundred years old ballet, but also because it’s Hwanwoong’s best one, too. He can hear some of the older maids excitedly recall the other times he’s put on the show, the first time he had finally dressed the role of Odile. How so many people had suddenly changed their opinion about the Lord, and some very shady affairs he had been doing at the time.</p><p>Mingi listens carefully, his own curiosity and excitement piling up, while he tries his best to work well and also make time to visit Hwanwoong. It doesn’t work as best as he would want, seeing as, after The Ravn had walked in on them making out on the bed, he had been ordered to be the on call butler for Yeosang and his entourage.</p><p>He’s standing by the archway into the sunroom, where Dongmyeong wanted to be as he learnt more sign language from Yeosang and Seonghwa. Yeosang leans into Dongmyeong’s space easily, taking his hands and moving them into the right position, smiling softly when he manages to get a sign right. They look like a group of good friends and, from here, Mingi wouldn’t think twice about thinking of Yeosang and Seonghwa as good people.</p><p>But his first encounter with them and the secretive looks the two lovers sometimes share keep him on high alert, because maybe nothing bad is going on, but something is definitely up.</p><p>“Dongmyeong is such a good kid.” Mr Kim sighs, as if he was the one who had raised the young master - and considering the years spent at the University, maybe somewhat it could’ve been true. “I thought I would’ve had trouble telling him apart from his twin, but turns out it’s very easy when he’s nowhere to be seen.”</p><p>Mingi can’t help a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “If you’re inquiring about the whereabouts of Master Dongju, Sir, he apologises for his absence, but he’s been sick with a fever ever since you arrived.”</p><p>“Or is it because we’ve arrived?” Mr Kim asks, and there’s so much knowledge in his question that Mingi is starting to get scared about how much this man knows and how much he’s found out in just a day.</p><p>Mingi tilts his head, both in genuine and mock confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.” He’s not about to voice any of his concerns to a stranger. For as much as he feels like Mr Kim can be trusted, he’s not about to risk getting himself or Hwanwoong in any kind of danger. He’d never forgive himself if his urge to just do something concrete to get Hwanwoong outside the grounds of this damn palace ends up being the cause of more hurt for the Songbird.</p><p>Mr Kim smiles, gently. “Smart boy.” He pats his shoulder and walks past, interrupting the chatter around the table with a terrible joke mingi would’ve laughed at if he hadn’t been left with more questions than answers once again.</p><p>He decides to tell Hwanwoong about it, and would’ve done so if when he finally ended his duties and was free to sneak into the room at the top of the tower, he hadn’t been met by a half naked songbird. Hwanwoong had a feathered collar and a pair of leggings on, cut at the heel and toes, in a soft gradient from solid white to transparent, stones sparkling over them. He holds in his hands what Mingi assumes it’s the rest of his costume, sheer and with a long trail, transparent and sparkling, with feathers over it. He turns when he hears Mingi walk in, and his hair is brushed back neatly, sparkling too, with a silver circlet of pearls and diamonds. His face is clean, without any makeup, but seeing him like that still makes Mingi choke on air .</p><p>“Holy shit, hyung.” he wheezes, closing the door behind himself and frantically looking around, thinking Seoho could be in to help him in, or worse, out of the outfit, but finds no one else but them.</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs, neatly folding the garment in his hands and placing it on the vanity. “Why, hello to you, too. I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you until after the show.”</p><p>“Man if that’s what you’re wearing for it, I hardly doubt I’ll even be alive by that time.” Mingi whispers, leaning against the door as Hwanwoong walks slowly towards him, head tilted down just enough he’s looking up at him through his lashes, bottom lip caught in his teeth. Mingi is sure he might not reach the end of the night either.</p><p>“It’s not done yet, I’ve tried dancing in it and it comes apart too easily.” Hwanwoong replies, now just a step away from Mingi, so close but not close enough. He shrugs, pulling at a zipper on his side and letting the leggins gather at his ankles. </p><p>He’s naked underneath and Mingi swallows saliva as his eyes snap up to look at Hwanwoong in the face, which doesn’t really end up being a better situation, as Hwanwoong is looking at him with hunger in his eyes. He scrambles a bit more against the door, back to heels completely plastered against it as Hwanwoong gracefully steps out of the offending fabric and presses his front against Mingi. He feels his face burn even stronger than it already was, and he’s sure he looks like a ripe tomato by now, not to mention a whiny, stuttering mess. </p><p>He remembers why he’s here. “I wanted to talk about Yeosang.”</p><p>Hwanwoong groans, frustrated, as he bends down to collect his clothes and stomps away. “Really, Mingi? I’m naked and you wanna talk? About Yeosang of all things?” he hisses, folding the leggins and placing them on top of the other cloth. He makes no move to dress up, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>Mingi is mortified, really, and panics. “Uhm, well… I....” he stutters, walking up to Hwanwoong, eager to make amends and have him look at him again like before. He’s not really thinking when he kneels in front of Hwanwoong, it’s just because he doesn't want to tower over him and there’s no chairs nearby and the only way his brain offers to him of being shorter than Hwanwoong is kneeling. All it takes is really just a look up at the songbird for him to realize how this looks, and one more second for him to be completely fine with it. He leans back on his heels and places his hands over Hwanwoong’s thighs.</p><p>Hwanwoong sucks in a breath. “Oh? Are we not talking about Yeosang?” he murmurs.</p><p>“If I’m lucky I won’t be able to talk at all…” Mingi purrs.</p><p>---</p><p>“What about Yeosang?” Hwanwoong asks, spent and warm, curled on top of the covers. He finally put on some pajamas and took off the rest of the accessories, brushed his hair back into a mess. </p><p>Mingi pops his head into the room, speaking around a toothbrush. “What do you think of him?” he asks. “I can’t make up my mind. One moment he seems like a spoiled, mean, asshole and the other he seems very… human? It feels like we could be friends.”</p><p>“I think he knows, Mingi.” Hwanwoong murmurs, turning to face him with a big sigh. “He knows that the Lord wants to influence him, somewhat, to get him to do something. But the thing that worries me is that I don’t understand.” He shuffles closer, head in Mingi’s lap when he sits down beside him. He pushes into the hand that starts brushing through his hair. “Why him? Why another Songbird, am I not enough? Does he need another because he wants to do something more complicated than before?”</p><p>“What does he ask you to do, usually?” Mingi asks.</p><p>“Mostly it is just getting people to like him a lot, like bankers and businessmen. A lot of colleagues, too, to make the competition easier, so that he can always come out on top.” Hwanwoong answers. “I know it’s cheating, to use my voice to get richer, but… he never hurt anyone and I thought that those people would do the same if I was in their hands. And maybe I wouldn’t have been treated as well.”</p><p>Mingi hums, nodding along, but his hand stops petting the songbird. “Are you sure he never hurt anyone, using your voice?” he murmurs, looking down at Hwanwoong, but he finds he’s got his face hidden, smushed into his thigh.</p><p>Hwanwoong sniffs. “I don’t know. What he asked of me always sounded like it wasn’t really hurting anyone but… after what he did to San, after how he’s treating me now… I don’t know.”</p><p>Mingi pulls Hwanwoong into his lap, holding him tightly and rocking him gently. He kisses his cheeks and forehead and hair, hoping his attention will prevent his lover from crying. Again. For things he’s not really responsible for, things he’s been coerced into, things out of his control that still settle guilt deep into his stomach and makes him throw up after breakfast. “It’s ok, you know now. You’ll be okay.” he whispers into his ears, as Hwanwoong curls into his neck and shudders. He’s glad that no tears seem to be falling. “You won’t let him use you anymore.”</p><p>Hwanwoong pulls back, scrunching his nose. His eyes are shiny, but he looks okay enough. “I don’t know what to do about Swan Lake. The Lord asked me to make Yeosang and Seonghwa want to be friends with him.”</p><p>“If you’re singing for them, the Lord won’t know what you’re telling them, right?” Mingi asks. He doesn’t really know how a Songbird’s voice works, but he does know that, when he’s singing only for a specific someone to hear, they will be the only one to be completely charmed. He’s been on the other end of that power already, he knows the pull from Hwanwoong’s voice is impossible to resist.</p><p>“But he will realize if they haven’t been charmed. Yeosang I might get away with, since he’s deaf and that’s a good enough coverup, but Seonghwa…” Hwanwoong shakes his head. He slumps into Mingi’s hold, feeling smaller and smaller each breath he takes as he curls up once again. </p><p>Mingi noses at his hair, until Hwanwoong turns around enough he can steal a kiss from his lips, chaste and sweet. “Hyung. You’ll be stunning. You will charm everyone present once you step on the stage and sing. It won’t matter why or for who you’re singing , everyone will be dazzled by you, no matter what. Even Seonghwa. Even Yeosang.” he murmurs. “Even if you don’t want charm them, I’m sure they won’t be able to still be amazed by you.”</p><p>Hwanwoong blushes, a timid smile on his lips. “Thank you, Mingi. It means a lot.”</p><p>“Don’t sing to them if you don’t want to.” Mingi murmurs, before kissing the tip of his nose. He knows, with the way the Lord is getting more violent as days have passed, it’s something very dangerous to ask Hwanwoong, but he only does because he’s ready to fight for and beside him if necessary. He’ll never ask Hwanwoong to rebel and put himself in danger without having anyone to support him through it. He doesn’t have to check with others: he knows if the Lord turns against the Songbird, The Raven, Seoho and San at the very east for sure will stand with him.</p><p>Hwanwoong gently cradles Mingi’s face in his hands, thumbs gently caressing the apple of his cheeks. He has such a fond expression on, soft and reassuring. Mingi’s whole being melts into the hold, and he hopes his expression mirrors all the love he’s feeling for the man in his arms. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder where I would be if you hadn’t walked into my room, all those months ago.” Hwanwoong tells him, and it sounds like a secret. “It’s scary, but it also makes me very grateful you did.”</p><p>Mingi doesn’t think his life would be much different, without Hwanwoong in it: his existence has been dull and common, living day by day silently and mostly alone since he was little, an orphan who was never adopted and later collected by the Academy who taught him how to work so he could make a living even on his own. He knows he’d be washing dishes somewhere, or tending to some garden, wake up-work-go sleep rinse and repeat routine.</p><p>But the thought of losing him now is terrifying.</p><p>---</p><p>When Mingi sees Seoho walking around the canteen at breakfast, he knows what’s coming. The rest of the table seems still much too asleep to even care or realize, eating their milk and cereals slowly and sloppily. San is leaning against his side, yawning. He, Yunho and Wooyoung have stayed up all night, chatting, curled up together in one bed, while Mingi has tried his best sleeping, but some kind of unrest has kept him awake for much longer than he would have wanted.</p><p>“Everyone, please pay attention!” Seoho calls, standing on top of a chair in the middle of the room. “The schedule has been updated to fit in the party that’s happening tomorrow night. All personnel who are not on active duty for the party, or have been ordered otherwise, have to come back to the dorms before eight.” He looks around the room, sighing. He knows most of the staff in there isn’t really listening. “The Lord has decided, due to a couple of… incidents that have happened, that anyone who disobeys this order will be fired on the spot. Guards have permission to escort anyone out of the premises.”</p><p>“Yo, what the fuck?” Wooyoung whispers, swallowing around his spoonful. “Is it because you got beaten up, Sanie?” </p><p>“San’s been beaten up?” Hongjoong asks, blinking, head snapping up in attention while before he was almost falling back asleep into his bowl.</p><p>Mingi kicks Wooyoung’s shins, which make him knock his knees on the table and yelp in pain. He whines, but otherwise shuts up. “Wooyoung is exaggerating.” he says. “San had an unpleasant run in with the Lord.”</p><p>“Yeah, I lost my way to the bathroom.” San says, and Hongjoong nods along. </p><p>Mingi pats Wooyoung’s back as an apology. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from his friend, but when Hongjoong sits up and says he’s got a few leftover tasks to take care of, quickly gathering his things and walking away, he thinks it’s fair if his friend is keeping secrets from him too.</p><p>“Are you on serving duty again?” Yunho asks Mingi, who shrugs. He’s sure San will be confined to the kitchens, if he’s allowed into the palace at all. He stands up and cleans up his plate and silverware, handing it off to the kitchen staff waiting for it, before walking out towards the schedule board, hung next to the main door.</p><p>He quickly skims over the names, finding his once again under the “Waiting Staff” section. He’s the only one of his friends present, Wooyoung and San in the kitchen, and the rest at their usual tasks. Jongho’s name is now actually written down in permanent marker as “Master Dongju’s Staff”, and Hongjoong is apparently set as staff for the gardens at night. </p><p>“Ah, lucky him. I asked if I could be put on the same shift, but Seoho-hyung said it was ok for me to be back at the dorms.” Yunho appears beside him, pointing to the board. “They’re letting you wait again.”</p><p>“I don’t like that. I feel like I’ll be walking right into a trap.” Mingi answers. “But I’d rather be close by than at the dorms again.”</p><p>He doesn’t have much to do for the day, in theory, but as always before a big event, more and more chores pop up every now and then. He has lunch late, quickly, as he’s been called in by the senior maids to help them dust off the big ballroom hall where the party will happen. He sticks around until dinner time, moving tables and chairs, dusting window stills and curtains, making sure the tablecloths are perfectly placed and all pretty ceramic plates are perfectly aligned with the golden silverware. He tries to flee the room twice, both times caught by one of the maids who needed his help for something else. By the time he reaches the kitchens, dinner is almost done and he’s exhausted. He accepts a warm bowl of soup and bread from San, who also gives him a little kiss of encouragement on his head.</p><p>“Mingi, you can wait for tonight’s dinner, right?” Seoho walks into the room. His hair looks a bit messy, his clothes slightly wrinkled and that’s all signs that today had been an hectic day because he’s never less than perfect. “The staff that was supposed to do it has been throwing up since early in the morning.”</p><p>Mingi looks around the room. There’s some of the usual wait staff, eating late like him. He knows there’s at least two of them who are almost regulars at the family’s meals. If it was just him and Seoho alone he would definitely ask why, out of all the people in the room, he would choose him for this. Why he’s waiting for the party, when he’s sure Seoho knows he will break all rules and be with Hwanwoong again by the end of it.</p><p>“I’ll go now.” He answers instead, finishing the soup as fast as he can. He thanks San with a kiss just like the one he was given a few minutes ago. He passes by Seoho with a nod, and he sees the man take a deep sigh and shake his head from the corner of his eyes.</p><p>He’s handled a large platter with a selection of fresh meats, straightens his back and pushes his shoulders back into a perfect posture before opening the doors to the dining room. The moment he’s in, he understands why Seoho had come to him. </p><p>Hwanwoong is sitting at the end of the table, between the Lord and one he knows is a disgusting little man who is his business partner, and he looks up at the sound of the doors opening, immediately letting out a small sigh of relief as he sees Mingi walk in. He can also see Yeosang and Seonghwa perk up, the interpreter singing something that makes the Songbird smirk.</p><p>The Lord squints at him. He’s on the good path to being piss drunk soon, if the color on his cheeks and the way he’s leaning on the chair is any indication, and his business partner seems to be just the same. Mingi takes the empty platter from the table and switches it with the full one. He risks a glance in Hwanwoong direction and immediately regrets his decision.</p><p>Mingi isn’t really familiar with anger. He’s not one to get angry, at most he’s disappointed. Sad. He might be annoyed and petty, yes but he thinks he’s never been angry for long.</p><p>He’s furious now.</p><p>The disgusting little man to Hwanwoong’s right has his hand on his thigh, ugly and sweaty, holding on hard enough he can see the fabric dent under his little disgusting fingertips. Hwanwoong’s whole body is torn between staying perfectly still and getting as far away from the touch as possible, leaning slightly to his left. But that also brings him closer to the Lord, who’s laughing loudly at whatever, and if Mingi can smell his breath, Hwanwoong would as well.</p><p>He can feel the way rage craws up his backbone, settling hot and roaring into his chest. </p><p>“Thank you for the meat.” Hwanwoong says, and his voice is so little and wary, but Mingi can still hear the song underneath, weak enough it won’t brainwash him, but it still carries the message along.</p><p><em>Don’t worry for me, I’m okay</em>.</p><p>Mingi bows, tells the table to enjoy the meat, before walking back to his place, next to another waiter, near the doors. He looks straight ahead, at Hwanwoong, who doesn’t look much better than when he first entered, but at least looks a little more comfortable.</p><p>Dinner looks more like a business meeting, both the Lord and his friend trying their best to pry information from Mr Kim, who seems used enough to these kinds of things, he manages to squirm away from answering just what his interrogators want to hear. Yeosang and Seonghwa are mostly silent, quickly signing something every now and then, Hwanwoong just eats his food and smiles in practiced fake politeness everytime someone turns to look at him. The Lady eventually excuses herself early, around the time they finished with their second course, claiming she’s checking up on her son. Mingi knows she won’t even get anywhere near Dongju’s room. He gets called a couple times to the table, to fill glasses, clean up empty plates, grab some more food. He has to resist the need to punch the Lord in the face every time he sees Hwanwoong flinch away from touches or questions.  </p><p>Eventually, it’s time for dessert, and as he’s collecting the bows of chocolate mousse from the kitchen, he sees Dongmyeong arrive from the end of the corridor. He bows. “Young Master, I thought you were dining with Master Dongju.”</p><p>Dongmyeong smiles nodding. “Yes, but he complained about being tired.” he peeks at the tray of sweets. “I’m glad I arrived in time for dessert.”</p><p>Mingi steps back when they reach the room, letting Dongmyeong enter first, and then trailing behind. The seats have been rearranged, apparently, and now Hwanwoong is sitting beside Mr Kim and the Lord, while Seonghwa has moved out of his chair and is just leaning against the back of Yeosang’s. Dongmyeong bows, greets everyone properly, waving happily at Yeosang.</p><p>“You’re supposed to be in your room.” The Lord slurs, frowning. “Go.”</p><p>“Oh, I just wanted to have dessert with the hyungs, and everyone.” Dongmyeong replies, pouting a bit. He seems totally obvious of the way his father is clutching Hwanwoong’s bicep, or how aggressive his tone was. Yeosang perks up then, shooing Mr Kim away. His hands come up and he sings, slower than he’s been doing the entire dinner, and Dongmyeong smiles brightly and replies, sitting down. </p><p>Mingi watches, as the Lord yanks Hwanwoong closer, speaking against his ear. He feels his stomach turn and bile rising up his throat, rage red and scorching hot filling in his veins. But Hwanwoong is looking at him, eyes wide and pleading, so he holds back. He can just watch, as Hwanwoong manages to slip free and he smiles at Dongmyeong, speaking softly. He watches, as the young master’s eyes gloss over for a moment, unfocused, and then he blinks, stands up, speaks with Seonghwa and leaves. When he passes by Mingi, he doesn’t even wave.</p><p>It’s not until another hour has passed before Mr Kim calls it quits and excuses himself to go to bed, Yeosang and Seonghwa trailing behind. Mingi begins clearing the table, as the Lord and his friend keep talking, slurred and muffled, Hwanwoong still being held steadily in his grip. </p><p>“My Lord,” Mingi interrupts, bowing. “I was asked to accompany the Songbird back in his quarters once dinner was done, to let him rest enough for his performance.” He’s confident in his bullshitting, even if Hwanwoong sends him a panicked look his way. </p><p>“Seoho accompanies him in his room.” The Lord answers, and tugs Hwanwoong his way, hard. “I’m not letting any of you disgusting slaves touch him.”</p><p>Mingi doesn’t know what superior power is keeping him in check, and he’s sure to thank all the deities he knows about just to be sure. “Master Seoho has been held back by a couple issues with the staff. I was appointed by him personally.” he says, and this time he risks a glance towards Hwanwoong, hoping he can understand what he means with just a simple look. He doesn’t know if he manages, because the moment their eyes meet he can feel his face soften and his gaze melt.</p><p>But Hwanwoong understands, and he turns around, addressing both the Lord and his friend. “It’s been a lovely dinner, and now it’s a lovely night.” he says, and his voice is melodic and light, perfectly crafted. “We should all go to sleep.”</p><p>If Hwanwoong can easily charm people when they’re in full possession of their mental faculties, commanding two drunktards proves no challenge at all. The Lord blinks, creeply, in the same way his friend does, and they both stand up and walk away in silence. Mingi turns, remembering the rest of the staff in the room, but they too have that same empty look in their eyes, stepping outside the room and closing the door behind.</p><p>There’s a small sob breaking the silence that had fallen, Mingi’s heart aches at it as he turns and pulls Hwanwoong into a thigh hug. “Oh, baby… what have they done to you…” he murmurs into Hwanwoong’s air as the Songbird whines softly into his shoulder.</p><p>“I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it so much.” Hwanwoong says, his fists punctuating every sentence against Mingi’s shoulder. “Please, take me away from here.”</p><p>Mingi slips one of his hands behind Hwanwoong’s back, the other under his knees, and hoists him up from the chair. Hwanwoong holds on, his arms wrapped around Mingi’s neck, as Mingi carries him towards the top of the tower. It’s late enough the whole palace is silent, no one but the night guard around. As it is, one of them actually walks up to them, concerned and confused. He’s someone Mingi’s seen around the palace before, one of the older guards in service. His name is Geonhak and Mingi’s sure he’s probably the head of the guards or something like that, because he knows he and Seoho talk a lot.</p><p>“Are you breaking curfew?” the guard asks. His voice is extremely deep, but still gentle and quiet, probably not to spook Hwanwoong.</p><p>“No, I’m still on duty. Just bringing the Songbird back to his room.” Mingi answers and he wonders once again if one can ever actually run out of luck, because he’s been having too much of it. He watches the guard nod, step aside and away to continue his patrol, before he goes his own way as well, up to the tower. It’s not the easiest feat, with Hwanwoong’s dead weight in his hands, still trembling a bit, but eventually he manages to push the door to Hwanwoong’s room open and close it behind himself with the kick of his heel. He places Hwanwoong on the bed, gently, kneeling on the ground in front of him.</p><p>“Hyung?” he murmurs, seeing as the Songbird is awake, but his gaze distant.</p><p>“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Hwanwoong murmurs, voicing his thoughts. “I’ve been feeling so anxious lately, like something awful is going to happen very soon, and I can’t do anything to avoid it… but we’ll be okay, right?”</p><p>Mingi takes Hwanwoong’s hands into his, and kisses his knuckles. “Of course we will.”</p><p>He helps Hwanwoong undress, kisses the slowly appearing bruises on his arm and his thigh, wishing he could just lick them away. Hwanwoong changes into soft, silk pajamas and crawls into bed. “Stay.” he says, holding onto Mingi’s hand.</p><p>Mingi bends down to kiss his forehead. “I can’t,” he murmurs, “I can’t risk getting you in trouble again.”</p><p>Hwanwoong smiles sadly, but nods anyway, pulling Mingi’s hands towards his face, turning his palm around to kiss at its center. “I love you, Mingi.” he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against it, like a tired cat.</p><p>“I love you too.” Mingi replies, watching as Hwanwoong falls asleep while he pulls away his hand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. viii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’m done being a pretty little bird stuck in a cage.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we've almost reached the conclusion of the story! next chapter is the last one and then there's a small epilogue to tie everything in.<br/>thank you to everyone who's already read this far</p>
<p>this chapter is rated T for Thank You So Much.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Mingi wakes up, he feels such a strong sense of deja vu he decides to spend some more minutes than usual in a horizontal position to will the nausea away. The first time he watched Hwanwoong perform, it was just one song, unexpected and rushed, and he has been completely and absolutely so fucking gone he has no idea how he will survive today at all. Yunho crawls into his bed, but there’s way too much leg between the two of them to wiggle in any kind of comfortable position, so they give up halfway and stand up.</p>
<p>“San makes it look so easy.” Yunho whines, hugging Mingi from behind as he walks towards the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.</p>
<p>“San is half your size and cuddle shaped.” Mingi points out. He glances towards the two empty beds, both San and Wooyoung having woken up unusually early due to the extra preparations for the party. He breaths in, breaths out.</p>
<p>Yunho leaves for the gardens, while Mingi beelines for the palace. He can see Yeosang and his entourage, with Jongho and Dongju in tow, in the distance. No sign of Hwanwoong, which makes him feel both relieved and nervous at the same time. He decides that he is not going to think a single thought until the party starts. He refuses to cave in to the fear and anxiety. He greets the staff he crosses, pops into the kitchens to press a sound kiss to San and Wooyoung’s cheeks, grabs the usual cleaning utensils and sprints into the left wings, as far away from the tower stairs or the dance hall as he can. He thinks he’s safe.</p>
<p>“One might think the floor personally offended you, by how hard you’re cleaning it.” a voice comes from behind him, amused.</p>
<p>Mingi doesn’t turn around. “Lord Raven, I thought you’d be in the gardens with our esteemed guests.”</p>
<p>The Raven steps into his line of sight, his polished leather boots coming so near to the patch of just scrubbed floor Mingi struggles not to tell him off. “That’s where I’m going. But I’m passing by to see how Hwanwoong is doing.”</p>
<p>“Have a nice day then.” Mingi murmurs, before going back to scrub the marble. There’s a long pause, the Raven not moving from his spot and Mingi just cleaning around him instead, out of spite. He doesn’t know what the lord wants from him, nor does he care enough about it, anyway. There’s a sigh let out, and before the Raven can speak again, he interrupts. “You can go. Nothing you say will change my mind about anything.” he says, looking up for the first time. It is indeed a day of celebrations and important guests, as the Raven has such a beautiful outfit picked out, all black on black, with his iconic feathered cloak on.</p>
<p>The Raven looks at him, eyes narrowed. He nods, before stepping away and then down the corridor towards the exit.</p>
<p>Mingi goes back to cleaning.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>If Mingi had eaten at all this day, he’s sure he would’ve thrown up at least twice already.</p>
<p>The dance hall has been decorated with dried up branches and trees painted white, flower arrangements with water lilies and cattails to make it look like a pond. There’s sheer blue fabric here and there, covering the lights as well, just to push the atmosphere a bit more. Most of the room has been reserved for the stage, where a two screen painted background depicts a pond and a castle, in the distance, during a chilly winter day, and the rest has been filled with some tables and chairs for the guests. The one that’s closer to the stage is for the family and the guests of honor, Seonghwa already sitting down at his place, while Jongho is standing awkwardly behind a chair that Mingi imagines belongs to Dongju.</p>
<p>There’s enough people, family friends, that Mingi can keep himself busy, but when he hears the heavy doors of the room open up, he knows his doom is coming soon.</p>
<p>The Lord enters arm in arm with his wife, Dongju and Dongmyeong trailing behind, next to Yeosang and Mr Kim. They sit down at the table, continuing whatever inane chat they had going on before entering, and the room immediately changes color, as everyone seems to want to steal a glance at Yeosang or eavesdrop the conversation. Mingi continues serving without looking even once at anyone.</p>
<p>Then, as he’s refilling wine glasses sometime during the first course, the lights dim and the chatter quiets, as the melancholic sound of a single violin, playing a familiar melody, fills up the room instead. He can see, in his peripheral vision, the general shape of Hwanwoong elegantly stepping onto the stage, and he manages to resist only until the other instruments join in a crescendo, before he turns to look at him.</p>
<p>Saying that his breath gets taken away is an understatement. He feels a punch in his guts, tightening around his lungs and heart as his eyes put Hwanwoong into focus.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s dressed in what’s mostly a sheer, skin tight one piece with a trail, sparkles of gemstones all over it. There’s feathers coming out of the small of his back and wrapping around his torso, up to his chest, white and soft and iridescent. He has a mask of white makeup that comes just down to his eyes and disappears into his hair, brushed back and crowned by white feathers as well as pearls and rhinestones. Breathtaking doesn’t even begin to describe how good he looks, as he weightlessly and elegantly moves across the stage, following the gentle rhythm of the music. After a twirl and a bow, he looks up, directly at Mingi, and for just a moment his expression softens, before going back to the melancholic gaze he had put on for his character of Odette. </p>
<p>Mingi shakes himself back into focus, returning to his task of serving the nobles gathered for the show.</p>
<p>After half an hour, the crowd explodes into applause, as the first act comes to a close, with Hwanwoong acting out Odette’s transformation into a swan as nighttime falls onto the lake, and darkness into the room. The lights are turned back on soon and Mingi lets out a small sight as the stage is empty, Hwanwoong having gone back for a costume change. He hears the spectators praise the Songbird and the changes made to turn the ballet into a one man show. He lets the comments wash off his back, a little bit of jealousy and possessiveness starting to crawl into his brain. Then, once again, the lights dim and music fills the room, and he turns to look at the stage.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hwanwoong has changed into a black version of his previous outfit, the roots of his hair having been dyed black too. He struts on stage confidently, with a sway of his hips and a dangerous glint in his eyes. He’s staring directly at Mingi with an intensity he’s never seen before, completely immersed in the part of Odile. His movements are completely different from before, sharp, quick and precise, more powerful than the gentle and elegant ones he used for Odette.</p>
<p>Mingi trips on his feet ,enchanted by Hwanwoong’s dance, but manages to catch himself before spilling the second course onto one of the guests.</p>
<p>He thinks he’s finally managed to overcome his need to look at Hwanwoong, when he gets flagged down by the Lord at his table. He walks over and he’s almost trembling just knowing how close Hwanwoong is.</p>
<p>“Get us some more whine.” the Lord spits at him. Mingi is tempted to bite back, but bows instead, walking towards the table and picking up a bottle that’s dated a bunch of decades prior. He opens the bottle, serving the Lord first and then the rest of the guests. When he reaches Yeosang, the Songbird tugs slightly on his sleeve and he bends down.</p>
<p>“Look at you trying so hard to not look at our lovely Songbird.”</p>
<p>Mingi knows the pull he feels as he hears the words, spoken melodically, between singing and talking. He’s felt it before, and even though this time he doesn’t feel his will being bent, he can still tell Yeosang is singing to him. This is also the first time he’s heard the Songbird speak: until now he believed he wasn’t able to.</p>
<p>Yeosang laughs at his shock. “Let me tell you a secret. You might be avoiding him, but our dear Hwanwoong has been looking at you the whole night.” he murmurs, and turns Mingi’s head to the stage with the tip of his index finger. “And once this is over, he will destroy you.”</p>
<p>Right at that moment Hwanwoong stands still in the middle of the stage, hand reaching forward toward him, his eyes bright with a light he has no idea where it’s coming from, his smile wicked and sensual, and Mingi feels the need to drop on his knees and surrender himself to Hwanwoong, completely at his mercy. Hwanwoong breaths out then and bends backwards until his hands reach the floor and he manages to kick his legs in the air, his body falling prone, gently, on the floor . He grinds his hips on the floor as he comes down, and Mingi has to look away, unless he wants to embarrass himself.</p>
<p>Yeosang laughs, silently, a hand to cover his mouth.</p>
<p>He looks around, but it seems no one noticed their exchange, thankfully, all too captured by Hwanwoong’s dancing to even care. He clears his throat and pulls back,  the distinctive sensation of eyes on him now making him fidgety. He decides to leave the bottle on the table and go back to filling platters for the other tables, never once turning around to look towards the stage.</p>
<p>Then, after countless minutes, a voice fills the room. He knows it well, but he’s shocked by the clarity it has. He turns, watching Hawanwoong on stage, dressed once again as Odette, singing carefully and softly. There’s no static in the air, no charge in the melody, no weight to his words. Mingi has heard Hwanwoong sing before, just sing, without giving his voice power, but never like this, eyes closed and body swaying slightly with the music.</p>
<p>He looks happy, completely at ease, and the whole room is completely silent, even without being commanded to.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong sings and Mingi forgets his duties, leaves his tray on one of the buffet tables and walks towards the stage, along the wall to not disturb or be seen. He manages to duck behind a couple of heavy curtains and peek from behind them. He’s so close he can see every detail of Hwanwoong’s white outfit, can see the sweat on his brow and the slight tremble of his hands. He must be exhausted, having danced almost nonstop for an hour . </p>
<p>Hwanwoong opens his eyes and, once again, somehow, he manages to find Mingi’s and look at him as he sings. It feels like a serenade then, even when Hwanwoong looks away to avoid anyone noticing Mingi, and Mingi closes his eyes to let the music and voice wash over him. There’s no real words spoken, but he can still feel the meaning and sentiments behind them, somewhat. He’d like to pin it on Hwanwoong’s nature, but he’s sure he’s just that good.</p>
<p>He slips away before the play is over, quietly managing to reach the little room Seoho’s set up as Hwanwoong’s dressing room. He finds the man inside, startled by his sudden arrival.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?!” Seoho asks him, hissing between his teeth and trying to push him away.</p>
<p>“Waiting for Hwanwoong.” Mingi answers, easily slipping away from Seoho’s grip. He doesn’t offer further explanation, just sits down on the only chair in the room. Inside there isn’t much bedside a vanity and a clothes rack on which Mingi can see the Odile costume has been carefully hung, along with one of Hwanwoong’s usual outfits, something made of lace and tulle.</p>
<p>Seoho sighs, shaking his head. “Please be careful, okay?” he tells him.</p>
<p>Mingi nods, and Seoho then leaves. Sound slips in as he opens the door, cheers and applause spilling into the room before being muffled again, once the door closes. </p>
<p>It’s not long before the door opens again and Hwanwoong walks in, closing it behind himself immediately and resting his head against it, breathing heavily. He sighs, before turning slowly around and seeing Mingi sitting in front of the vanity.</p>
<p>
“You’re here.” he murmurs, walking towards him. In the soft light of the room, most of the magic of the stage is lost. Hwanwoong looks tired, his skin sweating, the make up starting to smudge, his hair dishevelled and his outfit crumpled. But his eyes are so bright and his smile is so warm.</p>
<p>Mingi barely realizes he’s moved, falling onto his knees. “You were breathtaking.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong cups his face and bends down, kissing him, hard and wet. It’s so different from all their other kisses, much more rough and feverish than what he’s used to. “I didn’t sing.” he speaks between kisses, pulling Mingi’s shirt free from his trousers and slipping his hands inside. “The Lord ordered me to, but I didn’t do it. I won’t do it anymore.” He tugs Mingi up onto his feet and pushes him back until he’s forced to climb over the vanity, sitting down. Hwanwoong slips between his legs. “I don’t care about Yeosang, I don’t care about Mr Kim - I don’t even care about what will happen to me.” He punctuates every other word with a kiss or a bite, moving across Mingi’s jaw and down the column of his neck. He moves quickly to untie Mingi’s trousers, growling when they seem to get stuck as he pulls them down his thighs with his underwear. “I’m done being a pretty little bird stuck in a cage.”</p>
<p>Mingi is left speechless and very turned on, by the strength and resolve Hwanwoong seems to have, as he lets the Songbird manhandle him around, until he’s somewhat comfortable, curled up on the vanity, trousers gathered around one of his ankles and shirt pushed up to his armpits.</p>
<p>“Hyung?” he murmurs, cupping Hwanwoong's face in one of his hands. The Songbird immediately closes his eyes and pushes against it. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong presses closer, drapes himself over Mingi. “Sorry, is this too much?”</p>
<p>“No.” Mingi answers, and watches as Hwanwoong reaches behind to the back of his neck, where he unhooks his feathered collar and then lets the rest of his outfit smoothly slip down his body.</p>
<p>“Good.” Hwanwoong murmurs, reaching over to kiss Mingi on the lips. “Because I’ve only just begun with you.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi is standing in the middle of nothing, and as far as his eyes see there’s only pure, pitch black. He blinks, trying to make something out in the darkness, looking down at his feet.
He’s holding something small and precious in his hands, something warm. </p>
<p>It’s a little nightingale.</p>
<p>Mingi looks down, gently pets the bird with the tips of his thumbs, so careful he barely moves his feathers. He gently moves the bird up to his nose into the feathers and kisses his little head, terrified of hurting him, but feeling the need to express all his love for the creature, no matter what. It feels important, it feels necessary.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
He can feel his rapid heartbeat under his hands speed up and stop at once, before his chest bursts open.</p>
<p>Blood starts gushing out, scorching hot, dripping down and into the floor, burning away the skin it touches. It hurts, a pain unmentionable, but he doesn’t scream, doesn’t move. He can’t let go of the little bird, now dead and broken, chest stained red. He feels the blood pool at his feet and starts to fill the void, feels it rise up his legs. He wants to cry, scream, shout for help, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the little robin in his hands, and he doesn’t want to scare him away. The blood soon reaches his midriff, and he has to pull up his arms to avoid it submerging the bird.</p>
<p>He realizes it won’t stop flowing, and that it’ll soon reach over his head. He can’t let the robin be burned away.</p>
<p>So he opens his mouth and swallows him whole.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Mingi wakes up in a cold sweat just as he closed his mouth around the little bird, sitting upright and hitting his head on the bunk above. He whines, clutching where it starts to immediately throb, and then falls back down, trying to calm his heartbeat. </p>
<p>“You good?” Yunho asks, peeking from the top bunk down on him. His eyes are not even open, his hair a mess.</p>
<p>Mingi groans, turning around to face him. “Fuck me, no, I’m not.” he hisses. “My head hurts like hell and I feel like I’ve just ran a marathon.” </p>
<p>Yunho slips down from his top bunk to go pick San up from Wooyoung’s bed and place him next to Mingi. “Here, have him.” he says, still more asleep than awake, before waddling to Wooyoung and settling down beside him. San doesn’t even wake up, simply whines and cuddles closer, nosing against Mingi’s neck.</p>
<p>Mingi smiles, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. His head still feels like it’s splitting in two, but the feeling of pure, unfaltering fear seems to have mostly slipped away.</p>
<p>“What were you dreaming about?” Yunho asks in a whisper, blinking lazily from the other side of the room. “I could feel you move around and tremble.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Mingi replies, frowning. It was something… weird. Scary, yes, but also necessary, in a way that Mingi feels panic now that he cannot remember. It was something that felt so real his mouth tastes like death. “I think there was a bird…?”</p>
<p>Yunho smiles. “Hwanwoong visits you in your sleep, as well?” he teases, but his expression immediately falls when he sees Mingi frown. “Oh no, did something happen yesterday?” he asks, leaning on his forearms.</p>
<p>Mingi shakes his head, cuddling closer to San, who’s now definitely awake as he’s patting gently his back. “No. Well, yes - but nothing bad. On the contrary.” he clears his throat and looks away, cheeks and ears as red as a tomato. He’s thankful none of his friends comments further, because he’s sure he would melt into a puddle of embarrassment, but he can feel San giggling against his chest.</p>
<p>“Like you three are any better.” Mingi huffs, shaking his head. He slips away from San’s embrace and picks him up to rejoin him with his other two boyfriends. </p>
<p>Wooyoung groans under the added weight.</p>
<p>
Mingi leaves for a shower and changes into his uniform. It’s early enough in the morning, so almost no one is awake, and when he looks out, he sees the sun peeking over the skyline of the city, outside the palace’s ground walls. He has a sudden urge to go out, into the streets, maybe to the marketplace, hand in hand with Hwanwoong. He gives his three roommates a kiss each, and walks out into the gardens. It’s still cold in the morning, but spring has been slowly making its way into the world.</p>
<p>He stops here and there to gather some of the flowers in bloom, mostly chicory and daisies, that he ties up with a blade of grass. The unease he has been feeling since he woke up hasn’t really left him, and the closer he gets to the palace, the stronger it gets. He looks up, to the tower, to the drawn curtains of Hwanwoong golden cage. He might still be asleep, tired from the dancing and the after party, or maybe the clear skies are bothering his eyes again.</p>
<p>When he steps into the palace he’s greeted by an odd image: Jongho is talking to Seonghwa in the entrance, a bit to the side so they’re not immediately seen, but with no one around it’s hard to miss. The conversation stops when the doors close and Mingi is left standing still in front of them, half assed bouquet in his hands. He bows. “Good morning, Mister Seonghwa.” he greets, then just a nod of his head to Jongho, who reciprocates.</p>
<p>Seonghwa squints at him, before motioning for him to come closer. “Are you going to visit the Songbird?” he asks, voice low. </p>
<p>
Mingi blinks. He looks towards Jongho, who nods in encouragement. “I am. Is something the problem?”</p>
<p>
Seonghwa sighs. “Yeosang wasn’t in bed this morning and I’ve looked around the palace until now, but he’s nowhere to be found. It would be weird for me to keep searching around, so I asked Jongho.” he replies. “But he hasn’t had much luck either. I don’t like this, Sangie had a bad dream tonight that woke him, and that never bodes well.”</p>
<p>Oh, him too. Mingi thinks. </p>
<p>“I’ll see if he’s with Hwanwoong, then.” he says, and bows again, before making his way towards the tower.</p>
<p>
“Please do send word if you find him.” Seonghwa says. “I tried going up there myself, but a guard stopped me.”</p>
<p>Mingi goes, barely trying to hear what Seonghwa and Jongho go back to talk about. His legs move on their own, as he tries to calm his stomach and his mind as he steps up and up and up. He doesn’t meet anyone, and that makes him just more nervous.</p>
<p>“I knew you were dull, but I didn’t think you were just so fucking stupid.”</p>
<p>He stops at the top of the staircase. The door to Hwanwoong’s room is ajar, and although he can’t see inside yet, the voices carry on easily and he can tell that it was Yeosang talking.</p>
<p>“You don’t know shit about Dongju, you have no right to make these kind of assumptions.”</p>
<p>This time it’s Hwanwoong and Mingi’s heart skips a beat. His voice is strained and raw, as if he’s been crying and he can almost see him: tired and disheveled after a sleepless night.</p>
<p>“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Yeosang spits out, and it twists something inside Mingi. He gets to the door, but stops in his tracks when he hears the rest of the sentence.</p>
<p>“He’s a songbird.”</p>
<p>There’s silence, filling inside the room and spilling outside where Mingi has frozen in place, hand just mere centimeters away from pushing the door open. He swallows, ears ringing as he strains to perceive anything at all. He leans in and peeks through the gap.</p>
<p>The room is clad in shade, all curtains but one having been drawn closed. </p>
<p>Hwanwoong is sitting on the lounge chair, a knee up and under him. He’s wearing a black satin robe with lace trims, haphazardly tied around his waist, slipping off one shoulder. He looks tired, hair a mess and eyes red - due to tears or lack of sleep he can’t tell. Yeosang is sitting at the end of the bed, looking just as disheveled but not as wrecked. He’s sitting in the sun and the light crowns his golden hair, making it look as if he’s glowing on his own.</p>
<p>“What?” Hwanwoong asks, visibly confused. He pulls the robe closer to himself. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>Yeosang sighs, rubbing his temple. “How can you not know, haven’t you two grown up together?”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong opens his mouth, almost to speak, but he stops. He frowns, looks down at his feet and then up again at Yeosang. He’s thinking hard, his eyes trembling as if looking at something else. Eventually, his eyes stop on Mingi and his breath catches. He immediately reaches his hands up, and Mingi is there to pull him into his own in just two strides.</p>
<p>Hwanwoong feels small in Mingi’s embrace, as he curls himself into him, nose pushed into the crook of his neck and his hands trembling over his chest. Mingi sits down on the lounge and moves until he has the Songbird in his lap. “What did you do?” he asks Yeosang. He wants to sound mean, angry and upset, but seeing Hwanwoong in distress has taken all heat from his words. He’s just worried.</p>
<p>“Nothing.” Yeosang hisses, and for a moment he genuinely looks apologetic. “I just woke him up.”</p>
<p>Mingi turns his head, trying to peer at Hwanwoong’s face, but he’s holding on too tightly, so he relents and just noses at his hair instead. “Baby, are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Hwanwoong answers. “I’m just tired and he’s barged in here so early, speaking nonsense...” He pulls back, rubbing the back of a hand on his eye, smudging what little had been left of his makeup from the day before. Now that Mingi can see him better, there is still glitter in his hair and along his cheeks. He gently caresses over the sparkles.</p>
<p>“I am not!” Yeosang retaliates. He puts his hands together, the tip of his indexes against his lips. “I’m sure you’ll agree with me. Listen, it went like this: Mr Kim drank a bit too much at dinner, and he’s insufferable - I’m speaking jokes so terrible you might as well wish they’d poison your food - so Seonghwa had to quickly remove him from the room, before he embarrassed himself and the University’s name. So, I remained with the Lord and Dongmyeong, which was fine, because I like Dongmyeong a lot and I can have a decent conversation with him.” he stops, checking that Mingi and Hwanwoong are following along. “We were waiting for Hwanwoong to finish changing back, after the show, so he could join us, but the Lord was getting antsy, maybe because he kept drawing glass after glass of wine. Jongho arrived, at one point, saying Dongju was asking for his brother, and so it was just me and the Lord all alone in the room, since everyone else apparently had already left, by that time.”</p>
<p>Mingi swallows. After he and Hwanwoong had met in the dressing room, they had sneaked out to one of the bathrooms to wash off, and then he had walked Hwanwoong back to his room, staying with him until he had fallen asleep before sneaking back to the dorms. Neither of them had even thought about the guests or the Lord in the dining hall. At all.</p>
<p>“And look, I’m gonna be honest. I was sure Dongmyeong’s father wanted to fuck me and that’s why he insisted so much to have me here. It’s happened before, I’m used to people looking at me and just…” Yeosang waves his hands in the air vaguely, as both Hwanwoong and Mingi cringe just thinking about what the Songbird would’ve had to go through before. “I was bored, so I decided to be a little shit and play with the horny old man. You know, flutter my eyelashes, do the tap on the shoulder thing… and he seemed to have taken the bait, because he was so happy I said hey why are you looking for Hwanwoong, aren’t you happy it’s just you and me alone, so I was ready for the whole very uninteresting dirty talking, but instead he started ranting about how he was so happy that now, with me by his side, his plan was complete and he could finally obtain what’s his by birth...?”</p>
<p>“Hear that?” Hwanwoong tells Mingi, nodding towards Yeosang.</p>
<p>But Yeosang carries on. “I was like woah, this is totally not what I was expecting and he kept blabbing about how Hwanwoong was his right hand man, and I could be his left hand mand - and for a moment I thought, oh, okay, that could mean a threesome, maybe he <em>is</em> a horny old man - but then he looked at me and said he was glad he could put my voice to a good cause and have him raise to power. When I tell you I was about to run, man…” he sighs. “Anyway he eventually realized something and he looked at me, and his eyes were completely lunatic - he slammed his fist onto the table and spat all around saying how Hwanwoong disobeyed him and how he was going to be punished for it, that he was…” he looks at Hwanwoong and his voice cracks, becoming soft and apologetic. “That he’d have you flailed again for it and that he wasn’t going to let me go.”</p>
<p>Mingi gasps. “It’s because Hwanwoong didn’t sing, isn’t it?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Even if I sang, it wouldn’t have worked.” Hwanwoong interrupts, voice so, so small. He sniffs. “Yeosang can’t hear it anyway.”</p>
<p>Yeosang nods. “I’m completely deaf.” he explains, tapping his ears. The ornate gold earrings clink and shine. “I’m very good at reading lips, but it’s a gamble half the time. But when he sings, I just hear… words. The charm doesn’t carry over, it’s empty.”</p>
<p>Mingi hugs Hwanwoong closer. Even if they hadn’t met, even if Hwanwoong hadn’t decided to defy the Lord, even if he had done everything he had been asked to, he would’ve still gotten threatened. “How does that work?” he murmurs, genuinely curious.</p>
<p>“Our singing isn’t exactly human, you could say.” Yeosang explains. “Call it magic, if you will, but either way: there’s layers to a song. There’s the words, the charm and the command. The words don’t need to be connected to the command, but they’re like spells to charm who’s listening. Mold them to follow the request carried over by the voice.” he clears his throat and sings a few lines, clear and pretty. His voice is deeper than Hwanwoong, almost airy.</p>
<p>Mingi feels the telltale signs of being compelled to listen, his whole body tingling. He turns and kisses Hwanwoong, deep. Then the tingling stops and he pulls back, mind clear. He glares at Yeosang, who’s snickering behind a hand.</p>
<p>“I’ve only met one other songbird before coming here. Hwanwoong’s voice has been the first one I’ve heard in a very, very long time” Yeosang says. “Then, this morning, I heard Dongju’s.”</p>
<p>Mingi turns to look at Hwanwoong. The Songbird is biting his nail, looking at some point on the ground, but probably staring much further away. Mingi doesn’t really know a lot about the two of them, except that Hwanwoong considers Dongju like a little brother, and that he genuinely cares and loves him. He’s seen him arrange flowers and pick books that he’d later ask Seoho to deliver, he’s seen him wonder if Dongju had managed to go out when he was closed in, curtains drawn, because the sun was high and maybe it’d do good to Dongju’s declining health.</p>
<p>“Come on, Hwanwoong, the signs are all there.” Yeosang insists. “The hair, the eyes… his whole health situation is wack - that’s a songbird if I’ve ever seen one! And an extremely strong one, at that for him to be so sick.”</p>
<p>Hwanwoong bites his lips. “How did I not know? Why didn’t he tell me?” he murmurs, and there’s something catching in his throat. Tears swell in his eyes and Mingi is quick to brush them away as they roll down his cheeks. “I could have… I don’t know, I just don’t understand why he would keep it from me. We were so close when we were kids, hell we’ve slept more time together than not back then…”</p>
<p>“Maybe he doesn’t know?” Mingi tries to suggest, but the glares he recieve by both Songbirds are enough to make him recoil slightly into himself.</p>
<p>Yeosang stands up, ruffling his hair in a gesture that looks halfway between frustration and awkwardness. “Look, I came here to tell you what happened and to apologise. I had the wrong idea about you, and didn’t even think once that I might’ve been wrong all along.” he says, walking towards Hwanwoong and crouching down in front of him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s nothing good. I would hate to just wash my hands off of this and go back home like nothing happened.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need your apology, you’ve been a bitch and that is okay. You’re allowed to.” Hwanwoong says and Mingi has to admit it’s kinda hot seeing him still standing up for himself despite how tired he must be, both physically and psychologically. “I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”</p>
<p>Yeosang laughs, silently, his mouth wide in a smile and his hands up and shaking in what Mingi remembers Dongmyeong saying it was an applause. “You’re too nice, Yeo Hwanwoong. It’ll come to bite you in the ass, one day or another.”
</p>
<p>“That’s my job, actually.” Mingi corrects, and it pulls a genuine laugh from both the Songbirds. Hwanwoong slips from his embrace and walks towards the bathroom, probably to wash his face and pull himself together. Mingi follows him with his eyes, even after the door is closed.</p>
<p>Yeosang stands up again. “I’m sorry to you, too,” he says, shrugging, “I’ve been mean and you did nothing to deserve it.”</p>
<p>
“Eh, it’s ok.” Mingi says, shrugging back. “You’re a feisty one. Seonghwa is worried about you, by the way, you should go back.”</p>
<p>The songbird nods, taking one last look in the  general direction of where Hwanwoong disappeared. “If… you two need help. If anything has to happen…” he says, stopping with the door half opened. “Please, let me know how we can assist you. I feel like I owe you that, at least .”</p>
<p>Mingi barely has time to thank him for the offer, that Yeosang’s already gone and Hwanwoong is back. He looks like himself once again, a foreign determination in the set of his brow, sitting down at his vanity and starting to groom himself. </p>
<p>“Run away with me.”</p>
<p>Mingi doesn’t know why he’s said it out loud: so far, he has been content with toying with the idea in his mind, like he did when he was a child and fantasized about the family that would come to adopt him. It was supposed to be just that, a silly idea to fall asleep to. It shouldn’t have been given shape. But there’s something, in the way Hwanwoong turns to look at him, in the hope and fondness he sees in his eyes, that stops him from taking back his words.</p>
<p>“Run away with me.” he repeats. “The world is far greater than The Lord will ever be, he can’t hurt us if he can’t have us.”</p>
<p>“He’ll hunt us down.” Hwanwoong scoffs, but, for some reason, Mingi already knows how to reply.</p>
<p>“I know, but we won’t let him catch us.” he says, standing up to go kneel where Hwanwoong is sitting. His cheeks are pink with blush and he’s started to build up one of his soft, smoky looks on his lids. “I know people that would help us. There’s people<em> here</em> that would help us.”</p>
<p>He waits patiently, holding Hwanwoong’s hand in his own, as he lays his head down on Hwanwoong’s knees, eyes closed. A hand comes to brush through his hair and, when Hwanwoong speaks next, it’s right in his ear. </p>
<p>“I need to talk to Dongju first, but…” he murmurs, “I agree. Let’s go. Let’s run.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>San screams at him for an hour, after he’s told he’s going to run away with Hwanwoong. His friend’s actually crying by the end of it, and Yunho has to step in and make him stop, before he loses his voice. Mingi doesn’t even know why San’s so angry about it.</p>
<p>“You’re gone completely insane,” Wooyoung shakes his head. “I know being in love makes you stupid, but I didn’t think it’d get this bad.” </p>
<p>Mingi loves his friends. This is all the family he has, as far as he’s concerned, but he’s not about to let them bully him like this just because they think what he’s saying is ridiculous. His mood, already soured by San’s completely uncalled for outburst, darkens even further at Wooyoung’s words. “I’m serious. I have no intention of letting Hwanwoong stay in this palace any longer than he needs to.” he repeats, for what feels the hundredth time. “If you’d rather have nothing to do with it, that’s fine.I just thought I could ask my friends for help, but then again, what do I know? I’m stupid, right?.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung flinches at that, and is about to reply, when San beats him to it. “I’m not helping you get into trouble!” he says, sniffing. “You do that and then you get kicked out or <em>worse</em> and then we’re left here alone!”</p>
<p>“That’s so selfish, San.” Mingi says, hurt. This wasn’t how he thought the conversation was going to go, he didn’t think he’d even had to explain himself. He put so much trust in his friendship with his roommates that he had never even entertained the idea they might’ve been against his plan to run with Hwanwoong somewhere he wouldn’t be hurt again. “I can’t believe you’re angry because you don’t want me to go. What about what I want? What about Hwanwoong? Do you even know what is going to happen to him, if he stays?”</p>
<p>“Do you?” Yunho asks, and his voice is even and gentle. He’s yet to weigh in into the whole discussion, keeping himself on the sideline and mostly physically separating San from anyone else to avoid him hurting someone accidentally. “Don’t you think if he was so in danger, The Raven or Seoho hyung would’ve done something about it?”</p>
<p>“Who said they didn’t!” Mingi groans, exasperated. “But it’s not enough, or maybe it never has been. It doesn’t matter - I want Hwanwoong out of here. Whether you like it or not.” He shakes his head and stands up from where he was sitting on his bed. He ignores everyone protesting for him to stay and talk about it, and exits the room. He doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that no one runs after him, but he’s got priorities to take care of and he’ll worry about making up with his friends later. He power walks around the dorm and then walks into the gardens, hoping none of the family will be around to question his presence.</p>
<p>He finds who he’s looking for tending to the small hedge labyrinth at one end of the garden. Hongjoong is trimming off the top, standing on the higher steps of a ladder. He sees Mingi approach from afar and waves a hand to him. “Something’s the matter?” he asks, stepping down.</p>
<p>“Yes and no. I need a big favour.” Mingi tells him. He doesn’t know how much Hongjoong’s to be trusted, he’s yet to find out why he’s visiting the palace secretly and he’d hate to put Hwanwoong in danger by being careless with who he confides in. “Do you know when the guards change shift around the gardens?”</p>
<p>Hongjoong frowns at him, stepping back. “Why do you need to know that?” he asks, confusion clear in his face. There’s no trace of distrust or suspicion, and Mingi decides to use it to his advance.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard that someone smuggled out some silverware while the guards were changing shifts. We’re trying to find out who it was.” he lies, for the first time in his life he flat out lies to a friend for the purpose of gaining something. It’s manipulative and vile, and he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel when he sees that Hongjoong has fallen for it. “Someone pinned it on me and I have no intention of being a scapegoat. So maybe if I know when it happened, I can know who was on duty...”</p>
<p>“Oh no, that’s horrible!” Hongjoong gasps, extending a hand to touch Mingi’s bicep in support. “I don’t really know, but I can ask around. Did you tell Seoho?”</p>
<p>Mingi nods. “Yeah, he’s already looking into it, but I figured it wouldn’t be bad to try and find out myself.” he squeezes the hand on his arm and then thanks Hongjoong for his kindness. He makes an excuse to rush away, before he ends up exposing himself simply by hyperventilating too hard. He squats down behind a bush and starts calming his heart down.</p>
<p>He’s sure there’s worse things he will end up doing to keep Hwanwoong safe until they’re far enough the Lord can’t find them, so he shakes himself and stands back up. He needs to prepare a bag, put essential things in it and have it ready to go. He needs to get a weapon, just in case. He needs to warn Yeosang and keep Jongho in the loop too.</p>
<p>Mingi steps into the palace.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He has wings and shaking legs, body wrapped in razor wire. He struggles, knowing he’d die of hunger if he doesn’t escape, thinking he might die anyway if he tries to.<br/>He doesn’t care, he wasn’t born to stay trapped.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: this chapter contains assault and death (temporary of a main character and permanent of a minor one). Please be careful while reading if anything of the sort upset you.</p><p> </p><p>This chapter rating is F for Finally.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hwanwoong knows the way to Dongju’s chambers by heart, he’s been there for years, more often than not sleeping together. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he and Dongju started falling out, but he’s comforted by the familiar sight once he quietly enters the room. Nothing has changed from the last time he was in if not for the curtains and a couple paintings. Even the bedding is the same one Dongju loved when he was younger. Jongho looks up from where he was tidying up a tray with an empty teapot and cup. There’s a tension in his stance, his face an unreadable mask. He glances quickly at Dongju, who’s cocooned into the bed, between a ridiculous amount of pillows and his favorite soft blue blanket. It was a blanket he and Dongmyeong shared as children, and Dongju had become dependent on it as his twin had gradually started to live a life on his own far from him. It pulled hard at Hwanwoong’s heartstrings . </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>He walks slowly towards the bed, Jongho’s eyes still on him as he puts the tray away. Dongju looks pale and sick, dark circles under his eyes and his hair a mess. He is curled into himself, looking so tiny in the massive king sized bed, hands cupped loosely by his face.</p><p>“Do you need something?” Jongho whispers. He’s standing at the end of the bed, hands behind his back. </p><p>“I need to talk to him. It’s important.” he replies, eyes not leaving Dongju’s sleeping form. “Has he been resting? Can I wake him up?”</p><p>There’s a slight shift in Jongho’s expression, his eyes squinting for a split second. The only sign he had any emotions in him. “I’d rather you don’t.” No further explanation, but also not a request to step back. </p><p>Hwanwoong bites his lips, nervously tugs the hem of the vest in his hands for a while. The room is eerily silent, light softly filtering from between the sheer layers of the curtains draping on the window, over the headboard. He leans down, his hand gently brushing through Dongju’s hair.</p><p>“Hey,” he whispers, feeling the boy stir, but not waking yet. “I’m sorry. We need to talk.”</p><p>Dongju murmurs something into the pillow and Jongho steps on the other side of the bed, sitting down and putting his hand in place of Hwanwoong’s. There’s a gentleness and familiarity in the way he coaxes Dongju awake, an intimacy he feels awkward intruding, as he looks down at the young master with soft eyes and a smile so subtle Hwanwoong almost missed it.</p><p>Dongju sits up slowly, Jongho moving pillows against the headboard, before he leans back against them. He frowns when he sees Hwanwoong sitting down on the bed as well.</p><p>“You.”</p><p>His voice is rough and deep from sleep, his eyes struggle to stay open. He shifts imperceptibly closer to Jongho, before he speaks again. “Why are you here?”</p><p>“I’m afraid your father is going to do something terrible.” Hwanwoong explains. He does his best to keep his voice even and calm, to not rush it, to pick and choose his words carefully so that he doesn’t leave out any detail. “I don’t know why and I don’t know how long this has been brewing, but it’s getting out of hand.”</p><p>Dongju lets out a weak laugh that soon turns into a cough. Jongho is quick to gently rub a hand on his back. “You’re speaking assuming that I care.” he snarls. “I don’t, Hwanwoong. I couldn’t even begin to explain to you how much I don’t fucking care about whatever my father does with you or his new toy.”</p><p>Hwanwoong has trouble seeing Dongju as a grown man, it comes both from having grown up with him and the fact he’s always been so small and so muted as opposed to his twin. Dongmyeong carries his 23 years well, sometimes he can fool someone into thinking he’s older, and so does Hwanwoong, but Dongju still looks barely a day over 19.</p><p>But now, hair a mess, dark circles deep under his eyes, and a hardness in his eyes he didn’t even know he could possess, Hwanwoong is forced to see him grow up in the span of two seconds. “God, what happened to you?” he whispers, and he feels nauseous realizing he doesn’t know, that he’s completely missed how Dongju could be this sick without him noticing, that when he thinks about the last time he’s seen Dongju, it takes him too long before remembering he was with him when Yeosang arrived.</p><p>“I got sick.” Dongju replies, and there’s both venom and despair in his words. “I had someone’s cord around my neck, when I popped out of my mother’s uterus, maybe mine, maybe Myeongie’s - I like to think it’s his, when I feel particularly resentful against him. Feels less guilty.” he turns to look at Hwanwoong. “I was born with icy blue eyes and fiery red hair, so terribly sick, yet so incredibly unique. Between the talks of witches and demons, I was found to be a Songbird. So, my father wonders - what can I do?” he pushes himself off the headboard, slowly, leaning towards Hwanwoong. “How strong am I? I must be strong, because I cry and everyone is compelled to look at me, care for me, love me. But I’m sick.” he slips from Jongho’s aborted attempt of keeping him down, crawling on all fours, still slow, to Hwanwoong, who’s barely sitting down anymore. “I’m so sick, I’m sick all the time, I burn and cough and cry and break.” Dongju’s fingers dig painfully into the meat of Hwanwoong’s shoulders. Their grip is weak, yet they hurt nonetheless, because his nails are long, so long they  even dig through the fabric. “I kept breaking, and my father mourned me like I had been born dead, because I couldn’t sing, not like I was supposed to, not like he wanted me to…” his hands move, resting on the base of Hwanwoong neck. Dongju brings his knees forward, cages Hwanwoong between them and sits back on his heels. “... but then he found you. You were not broken. You were not sick. And most important, you never were smart enough to see a fucking trap when it’s right in front of your stupid face!”</p><p>Hwanwoong’s head clocks against the footboard and Dongju curls his hands around his neck, pushing him down. The pain is just a flash, but enough to distract him from the way Dongju’s fingers start to squeeze and squeeze. His eyes fly open, tears already falling against his cheeks, but it’s not his own. On top of him Dongju is crying, furious and desperate and broken, pushing harder against Hwanwoong’s windpipe. Jongho is behind him, one arm around his waist, and one hand frantically trying to pry Dongju’s fingers free.</p><p>Hwanwoong can’t speak, and his vision is starting to be blurry and spotty. He weakly reaches up, as best as he can, and cups Dongju’s face in his hands, wiping away his tears. </p><p>Dongju gives in.</p><p>He collapses on top of Hwanwoong, loud wails shaking his little frame, as Hwanwoong tries to coordinate his limbs enough to hug him tightly. His head hurts and his throat is a mess, but he still does his best to murmur quietly into Dongju’s hair, apologies and comfort dripping from his lips one after the other. Jongho looks shell shocked, breathing hard, as if he were the one being choked. </p><p>“Ju…” Hwanwoong murmurs, sweetly, and that makes Dongju cry harder. They stay like that for a while, until Hwanwoong feels like he can move without disrupting the fragile loop they’ve found, Dongju crying softly in the crook of his shoulder and Hwanwoong rubbing his back in a way that he hopes is comforting.  Eventually Jongho manages to pull Dongju away and into his lap, gently and methodically, rocking him softly.</p><p>Hwanwoong pushes himself back up, coughing. His neck hurts like hell, dull and hot, but when he speaks next, he finds his voice still there, like before. “What happened...”</p><p>“Yeosang came by.” Dongju answers, his voice still shaken by the stray sob or hiccup. “He told me the same thing you did, but he… he knew. I panicked. And I sang. I made him leave.”</p><p>Hwanwoong moves closer, placing one hand on Dongju’s back to rub slow circles. “He told me...” he murmured. “Ju, why? Why did you never tell me?”</p><p>Dongju’s laughter is bitter and dark. “What difference would it have made? My father would still favor you and Myeongie, I would still be useless and sick…” he replies. “Besides, I didn’t want your pity - nor anyone else’s.” He directs that last part to Jongho, glaring. Jongho seems completely unphased by the remark and simply sets to place Dongju back to where he was.</p><p>“I don’t pity you.” Hwanwoong tells him, sitting on his left and taking his hand. “I’m sad about this, of course, and I feel guilty… like I should’ve known. Does Myeongie know?”</p><p>Dongju adverts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Kind of. I’ve been talking to him, but… he’s just so far removed from here. He hasn’t been home in a long time and everything I tell him sounds fake or exaggerated to his ears…” he murmurs. “He’s mostly worried about my health and thinks all this is just anxiety that will only make me more sick…”</p><p>Hwanwoong shakes his head. He’s at a loss for words, mind racing back and forth to all the time these past years he should’ve known. All the time Dongju was mean or snappy at him, all the time he complained about Dongmyeong being away, all the slow days and nights where he looked so exhausted and resigned. He remembers seeing Dongju at dinner, red rimmed eyes and deep set dark circles, the way he just dismissed it as yet another day where he was just sick. </p><p>“You need to go.” Dongju says, after a while. “I don’t know what my father is planning and I don’t know why, besides power and money, as always. But whatever it is, you and Yeosang aren’t safe here.” he looks at Jongho, and the man immediately moves closer, frowning. There’s a silent conversation, before Dongju takes his hand and squeezes it. “I can keep my father busy long enough. Run away tonight, after dinner. Promise me.”</p><p>Hwanwoong leans in to hug Dongju and he feels overwhelmed when he lets him, hugging him back with so much strength he can feel it in his ribs. He pulls back. “What about you? Will you be okay?”</p><p>“He will,” Jongho answers, his voice leaving no space for arguments, “And so Yeosang, too. He’s holding onto Dongju’s hand gently, thumb caressing over his knuckles. Hwanwoong remembers that one time where Jongho helped him out too, without needing to be asked. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Ju.” Hwanwoong murmurs, tucking a strand of red hair behind the other’s ear. “I wish I could’ve been with you through all this.”</p><p>Dongju shrugs. “My fault too. Could’ve been a bit less of an ass.”</p><p>---</p><p>Hwanwoong has a coat and a bag prepared before he has to go to dinner. There’s very little in it, mostly sentimental pieces he can’t bear leaving behind, like the songbird book The Raven smuggled in for him, his lace blindfold and his favourite bird brooch. He puts the jewels in a pouch, since he doesn’t have any money at all, and hopes he can sell them somewhere fast enough - considering how much they’re worth. Lastly, he scoots under the bed and retrieves the fire poker he had stolen and hidden there, years and years ago, when he had been scared about getting kidnapped in the night after a series of disturbing letters addressed to him.</p><p>He stops, feeling the weight of the metal in his hands, and thinks. </p><p>“Motherfucker.” he growls, swinging the poker once, getting an end stuck to a bedpost.</p><p>Of course the letters were fake, it seems so obvious now. They started to come in just as he had mentioned wanting to go see the travelling carnival that had arrived to the outskirts of the city, they contained all the threats the Lord had always warned him about and not once he had stopped to think and wonder how convenient that had been. He remembers the sleepless night and both Seoho and The Raven consoling him. He always wondered why they didn’t seem so concerned, and now he knows it's because they knew they were fake. Everything was fake.</p><p><em>They lied to you</em>.</p><p>He wraps the poker in one of his thickest scarves and puts it inside the bag, before shoving it under the bed, right as there’s a knock and his door opens.</p><p>“Ready?” Seoho asks, and Hwanwoong struggles harder than ever before to keep his mouth shut, to not spill everything, run to him and beg him for help. He left him a letter, taped under the vanity, where he knows Seoho will look, because that’s where he used to hide candies when he was younger. </p><p>“As I’ll ever be.”</p><p>---</p><p>Mingi is shaken awake. For a moment, his brain doesn’t really process anything and he ends up, as always, hitting his head on the top bunk. He whines, clutching at it, before hearing a familiar chuckle.</p><p>“Get dressed. Let’s run.”</p><p>He turns his head, eyes wide. Hwanwoong is in his room, dressed in a black cloak, eyes shining in the dark, holding onto some clothes and a pair of boots that he doesn’t recognize. </p><p>“What the fuck?” Mingi hisses, but he wears the shirt and trousers he’s handed, as well as the boots. “What happened?”</p><p>“Nothing, Dongju is buying us time.” Hwanwoong tells him, startling when he hears Wooyoung stirring. They both hold their breath, stilling for a couple of heartbeats, before a hand comes down from the top bunk, waving.</p><p>“You get ready, we’ll help.” Yunho says, still half asleep. San is in no better shape, tumbling down from beside him and going to gather a coat. </p><p>Hwanwoong smiles at them. “Thank you.”</p><p>It’s a blur until they’re out of the dorms and the chilly air of the late evening wakes him up completely. He quickly stuffed all his belongings in a bag, all the money he had. Wooyoung, San and Yunho gave some of theirs too, insisting on it when both Mingi and Hwanwoong refused. </p><p>“I love you so much.” Mingi says, turning around and pulling all three of them in a hug. “Say hi to everyone else for me, ok?”</p><p>He knows he’s crying, and he can see San is too, but he forces himself to turn away, to look at Hwanwoong who’s waiting with an outstretched hand.</p><p>He takes it and they start running.</p><p>The garden is huge, and the whole perimeter wall is covered in vines and bushes, mostly with thorns. There’s just a handful of guards patrolling, but Mingi knows where they are, since Hongjoong told him about it. He guides Hwanwoong away from their paths, and Hwanwoong guides him through shortcuts and hidden routes. It takes ten minutes to see the main gate in the distance, as they’re hidden within one of the biggest bushes. There’s no cover from there on out, and they’re waiting for the gap in the guard’s patrol where they can go and climb over.</p><p>“Now.” Mingi murmurs, but as soon as they take the step back out into the open, his stomach drops and a sense of impending doom takes over his whole being. </p><p>Deja vu claims his mind, as he feels like he’s done this before, he’s seen this play out once already, but he can’t pinpoint how, where or why - until the memories of a dream, far and blurry come back to him.</p><p>A dream in which he ran, ran as fast as he could, ground crumbling under his feet, as he rushed to the open gate, as a little bird flew next to him and then crashed into the thorns of the blue raspberry bush next to the gate, tinting his chest red, ripping it open. </p><p>He plants his feet in the ground, opens his mouth to warn Hwanwoong, just as something blunt hits his head and sends him sprawling to the ground, pain blossoming at his temple. He hears Hwanwoong’s screams getting cut off midway, muffled, but when he opens his eyes it’s too dark to see well, beside two figures struggling. “Woong…” he groans, trying to push himself on his hands and knees, but a foot kicks at his elbow and face once again greets the ground. A pair of boots crowd in front of his face and he turns on his back to see his attacker.</p><p>“Why?” he asks, as he watches the imponent figure of The Raven tower over him, his face a mask of regret and guilt.</p><p>“This was a death sentence for him.” the man says, and there’s so much hurt in his voice that it cracks at the end. “You don’t understand this would’ve made everything worse.”</p><p>“How could you do this?? We could’ve been free.” Mingi replies, hearing footsteps and voices nearing. “He could’ve been happy...”</p><p>The Raven takes in a shaky breath before a couple of guards arrive. He walks away as Mingi is apprehended, getting another blow to the head for good measure as they shout at him, twisting his hands painfully behind his back, tying him up and then dragging him away. The trek to the palace is long, longer than the run to the gates, and he can see that everywhere is lit up now, from the dorms, to the palace, to the gardens. He recognizes a couple shouts, hears San’s voice in them, and he tries to turn, to see where they come from, worried that his friends have been found out too, but he’s pushed and pulled to walk and look down.</p><p>When he enters the palace all he sees and hears is chaos, a cacophony of cries and screams. He tries, once again, to look up and around, hoping to find Hwanwoong somewhere. All he sees, though, is Seonghwa shouting to what looks like the lady of the palace, and Dongmyeong worriedly trying to calm someone, anyone down, before he’s hit again and all he sees is black.</p><p>---</p><p>When he wakes he’s lying on a cold stone floor. It’s dark and humid and there’s just the fickle light of a single candle illuminating the space. His head hurts like a bitch, pain beating with his heartbeat. His hand comes out red with caked blood when he gently prods at it. </p><p>He realizes he’s in some sort of cell, small and bare, closed with a wooden door. He sniffs and recognizes the smell of wine and cheese. </p><p>“You’re in the cellar.” a voice comes from behind the door, unsure and muffled.</p><p>He stumbles, leaning against the wood. Standing upright hurts him more than he realized, feeling the pull of bruises and aches throughout his body. “What?” He hears a sob and he tries to open the door, but all that he manages is to rattle the doorknob. “Who are you?”</p><p>“I didn’t think they’d hurt you, I was just… scared, I guess?” The voice comes again, but this time louder and much clearer than before. Mingi knows the voice.</p><p>“Hongjoong.” </p><p>He feels hurt, deep and sudden, followed by guilt. He can’t believe Hongjoong was the one who rattled them out, but also he doesn't know how much he can blame him, after having kept him in the dark the whole time. “Why? What did we do to you?” he asks, still pulling at the door, which doesn’t budge.</p><p>“It’s just… I knew the silverware theft was a lie, but I thought you just wanted to sneak out into the city. I asked Youngjo about the guards and he wondered why, so I lied and said I almost got caught going back to the dorms last time I was with him.” Hongjoong said, and Mingi hears him try to rattle the door too. “He told me the rounds and I didn’t think much about it until… I saw the Songbird go to the dorm while I was heading to the palace, and I thought it was strange, so I…” </p><p>“You told him.” Mingi accuses. “You told him Hwanwoong was with me!”</p><p>Hongjoong stumbles on his words, struggles to start his sentence. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what would happen!” he says. “I saw the guards go out and then I heard the Songbird, Yeosang, shout at the Lord, while he was carried away by force, and then…”</p><p>There’s a door opening in the distance and he’s cut out, footsteps and a few hushed whispers before the lock to the door clicks and it swings open.</p><p>Behind it, Hongjoong is curled against The Raven’s side, unable to sustain Mingi’s gaze as their eyes meet. “Come out.” The Raven says.</p><p>“And then what? Get beaten again? Of course, you surely didn’t have the time to finish the job properly, earlier.” Mingi replies, taking a step back from the door. He keeps staring at Hongjoong, at the way he’s much too comfortable in The Raven’s embrace to not have been held by him before. It makes sense, somewhat. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.</p><p>“No, Mingi - it’s gotten bad.” The Raven replies, and despite everything that Mingi wants to believe about him, his words sound true. “I don’t know what’s happening, but everyone’s fighting and-”</p><p>There’s a muffled shout, somewhere above them, filtering down the stairs that bring out the cellar, too far away to discern who is talking or about what. Mingi pushes past the pair, climbing up two stairs at a time. He’s not familiar with that part of the palace, but he’s able to rush through the corridors and rooms guided by the commotion.</p><p>He takes a right and finds himself in the great hall, where just a few days before Hwanwoong performed. There’s a handful of people, mostly gathered against the walls, but his eyes focus immediately on the Songbird, right in the middle of the room. Mingi has never seen him so angry, body tense and voice raised, loud enough he almost echoes. The Lord is in front of him, face red and eyes glassy, swaying a bit in place, drunk out of his mind. Not too far away, behind them there is also Dongju, held tight in Dongmyeong’s arms, struggling to stay up, lip split dripping blood down his chin.</p><p>“Hwanwoong!” Mingi calls, unable to think fast enough to save his life, but at least managing to shift the focus on himself, instead.</p><p>The Lord points at him, slurring words that Mingi doesn’t really care about listening to, while Hwanwoong looks shocked to see him free. “Mingi, go away!” he calls, walking towards him. The Lord reaches out and manages to grab him by his hair, yanking him back.</p><p>That’s when Mingi stops thinking.</p><p>In the blink of an eye, he’s on the man , careful not to hurt Hwanwoong in the process, but he isn’t fast enough to prevent the Lord from kicking him in the ribs and pushing him away. “Whore.” he spits towards the Songbird, and Mingi punches him in the jaw, hard enough the skin over his knuckles splits. He doesn’t notice, overcome by pure, searing, raw rage.</p><p>He kicks the Lord back, having him stumbling on the ground, and sends his heel over his head a couple of times, watching the motionless body.</p><p>He’s breathing hard, shaking like a leaf. “Hyung?” he calls, turning around. Hwanwoong is on the ground, knees scraped, nose bloody,a bruise blossoming high on his right cheek, and when he looks up, a gasp gets caught in his throat.</p><p>Mingi feels a hand grab his ankle, and then Hwanwoong watches, powerless, as the Lord picks himself up from the ground, yanking Mingi and sending him face down on the floor, with a nasty crack. He pulls on him, crawling on top, one knee pushing down in the middle of his back. When he throws his hands up, he’s holding a knife, the same one with which he was threatening Dongju with earlier on.</p><p>Hwanwoong stops thinking.</p><p>And he screams.</p><p>He feels his throat rip and bleed, his chest so tight it could burst at any minute. His last thought, before he sees Mingi turn around to look at him, before he feels the very air in the room fill up with static, before he sees Dongju right behind his father, a hand over the knife, is just: please, all stars in heavens, let this be the end.</p><p>And like a prayer answered, his heart finally stops.</p><p>---</p><p>There’s a man that looks strikingly like him, but older, rougher. Like life tried to bring him down and he won, fighting back with teeth and nails. His eyes are sad as they hold him, a little robin trembling in his hands.</p><p>“Sing again.” he whispers.</p><p>So Hwanwoong does.</p><p>---</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>When he opens his eyes, he knows he just, somehow, came back from the dead. He can’t see properly, everything hurts, and his heart is barely beating enough to keep him awake. His face is wet, but not from his tears.</p><p>Mingi is bent over him, bawling his eyes out, tears falling down his cheeks and spilling onto Hwanwoong’s face as they drop from his chin. He’s holding his head in his lap, gently brushing his hair back, whispering muffled words, over and over, in what seems to be a broken prayer. His sight is too blurry, too far away to notice Hwanwoong came back to him.</p><p>“Baby?” Hwanwoong murmurs, but he knows he’s not speaking properly, as the word doesn’t feel quite right to his ears at all.</p><p>He tries to raise his hand up to caress Mingi’s cheek, but a weight keeps it on the ground. When he looks down at it, he sees Dongju clutching it tightly, trembling, barely alive himself, sweat and tears and snot all over his face. He’s heaving, breaths broken and nasty, and Jongho is holding him so preciously in his arms, crying himself. It takes him a couple seconds to register that Dongju's usually immaculate white shirt is now drenched in blood, soaking wet in ominous red. He worries, for a single second, that it’s his, but gets a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>“Baby.” Hwanwoong tries again, and this time it seems he spoke loud enough to be heard. Mingi’s breath breaks into a sob and he starts hyperventilating, as he bends down, to look into Hwanwoong’s eyes, with so many emotions at once it’s overwhelming.</p><p>“You came back.” Mingi cries, forehead to forehead, eyes foggy with tears. “You came back to me, oh fuck, I thought I’d lost you forever.”</p><p>Hwanwoong wishes he could move on his own, that he could hold Mingi tightly and shush him, as if he wasn’t the one who had just died and came back. “Dong… ju?”</p><p>Mingi sniffs, tries to explain, but it takes him a couple tries to form a complete sentence without breaking down into hiccups. “I don’t know what happened... he crawled over the Lord and…” he swallows, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “He kept stabbing and stabbing, and Jongho then dragged him away but you… you were laying there, and your eyes were open, but you weren’t breathing, and you weren’t answering, and I didn’t know what to do…” he whimpers, looking around. Beside their breaths, there is no sound at all in the room, nothing is moving. “Everything stopped but us, I don’t know why.”</p><p>“I sang for you.” Dongju interrupts, voice sounding like sandpaper on skin. He coughs and wheezes and shakes harder, and Jongho just hugs him tighter, not caring about all the blood, all the tears. “I saw you dead. So I sang for you.”</p><p>Hwanwoong, slowly and weakly, squeezes Dongju’s hand back. He can barely apply any pressure, feeling dizzy right away, but it’s worth it just to see the way Dongju calms down a bit, the way the corners of his mouth pull into a small smile.
“Let’s live.” he whispers.</p><p>It doesn’t take much for time to start flowing in again, still all weird and wonky . At some point, Jongho manages to detangle Dongju from Hwanwoong and carry him a little further away, so that Mingi too can cradle Hwanwoong in his arms and keep crying into his hair. Yeosang and Seonghwa tumble in, eyes wide, coughing. They murmur something about freezing in place, before they silently help Jongho get Dongju on the ground and Hwanwoong sees Seonghwa push the bloody fabric up his chest to check for wounds, but before he can call out, Youngjo appears in his field of vision, trying to calm down Mingi. He hears Seoho and someone from the guards talk, sees them in the corner of his eyes drag away the corpse of the Lord. </p><p>He hears someone scream, but he’s too tired to stay awake long enough to figure out who.</p><p>He wakes up only once, as he’s laid down in Dongju’s bed with him, hands still held tightly. He pulls the boy closer before strength leaves him once again.</p><p>And he sleeps for a week.</p><p>---</p><p>Mingi is standing in a lake, water at his ankle. He’s turned away from him, watching the sunset fall into the water, painting it orange. Hwanwoong has their shoes in his hand, feet in the wet sand just on the edge. The sun is warm on his skin and, when he takes the first step, the water is pleasantly chilly. When he gets near Mingi, the other reaches out to hold his hand.</p><p>He leans into him and smiles.</p><p>---</p><p>He has wings and shaking legs, body wrapped in razor wire. He struggles, knowing he’d die of hunger if he doesn’t escape, thinking he might die anyway if he tries to.</p><p>He doesn’t care, he wasn’t born to stay trapped.</p><p>---</p><p>One day Mingi is laying beside him, smiling softly. He looks exhausted, and when Hwanwoong points out he looks like shit, he laughs.</p><p>“I didn’t come here to get insulted.” Mingi replies, and his voice is wet for some reason. They’re just joking, why is he crying?</p><p>“Why, where do you usually go?” Hwanwoong asks, but he’s asleep before his curiosity can get an answer.</p><p>---</p><p>There’s a lot of blood on the ground, soaking into the earth and turning it black. He’s not worried, he knows it will feed the seeds sleeping underneath, letting them mellow out soon into beautiful, crimson blossoms. A wren stands still among the blood, leisurely hopping around. He turns toward Hwanwoong and they fly off together.</p><p>---</p><p>The man that looks like him comes back once, just once. He smiles.</p><p>Hwanwoong thinks he understands.</p><p>---</p><p>He’s flying, soaring on the warm wind that spring brought in. Mingi is running beside him, keeping pace, and there’s a wall in front of them, blue raspberry bushes in bloom all over it, thorns and flowers wrapping around the stone. Mingi laughs and Hwanwoong sings in reply.</p><p>They run through it, come out scratched, but alive. </p><p>They keep running.</p><p>---</p><p>Hwanwoong awakens to quiet chatter and rustling. It takes him a while to put the world into focus, between the headache he can feel stirring behind his eyes and the general subtle pain in his whole body. He tries to push himself up to sit, but he finds it really hard to control his limbs. Someone rushes immediately by his side, helping him out gently, until he’s half sitting against the headboard. </p><p>“Hello you, welcome back!” Seoho smiles, bright and so very happy, basically vibrating from it.</p><p>“How long was I out?” Hwanwoong asks, voice rough and mouth tasting like death. He coughs and Seoho is quick to hand him a glass of water.</p><p>“Ten days. You’ve been waking up a lot these past days, but I don’t think you remember much, do you?” </p><p>Hwanwoong thinks about all the times he’s dreamt of Mingi, how real every single time felt, but, now that he’s awake, his brain fails to remember enough details to tell reality apart from fabrication.  “I’m not sure, maybe…” he replies, feeling much better now that he’s washed down days of disuse from his mouth. He looks around, not really recognizing the room he’s in, but sure that he’s been moved from Dongju’s. “Where’s Ju?”</p><p>“Hospital, in the city” Seoho replies, and he immediately adds “He’s okay, we just didn’t have the means to best help him here. His leg was badly broken and whatever he did when he sang for you, it took a toll on his body.”</p><p>“Will he be okay?” Hwanwoong asks, glad to hear Dongju is alright, but still feeling uneasy knowing he’s not near. Last thing he remembers is how tightly he was holding his hand, despite everything that had happened, and despite all the hurt he had been through.</p><p>There’s a knock on the door and it opens just enough to show Mingi’s silhouette behind it.</p><p>Hwanwoong feels himself reaching out, arms open, for Mingi, but he also feels the way Mingi holds him tight to his chest, kissing his head so gently as he cries softly, happy to see him awake. They hold each other for a while, in silence, until Hwanwoong feels once again tired and weariness starts to take over his limbs. He’s sick of sleeping, but staying awake apparently is proving much harder than it should be. </p><p>“Yeosang, Seonghwa and Mr Kim send their regards. They’ve gone back to the University.” Mingi tells him, after he’s gotten rid of his shoes and trouser and slipped inside the bed, pulling Hwanwoong in his embrace. “He’s keeping in touch with Dongmyeong about this whole thing. Apparently, things have gone crazy once the news broke that the Lord had tragically passed away.”</p><p>Hwanwoong shudders, stopping his brain from remembering anything from that day, yet. He’s sure he’s going to have to face it, sooner than later, but he has no intention of doing it now. “What happens to us? To you? San and the others?” he asks.</p><p>Mingi smiles. “Well, Dongmyeong and Dongju kinda inherited everything. Their mother… hasn’t taken well to the whole <em>thing</em>. She left for her parents this morning, I don’t think she’s ever coming back.”</p><p>“That’s sad.” Hwanwoong comments, but Mingi shakes his head.</p><p>“She seems more upset that her sons don’t want to follow in their father's footsteps, rather than her husband died.” he explains. “Called Dongju a bunch of horrible things. Yeosang sang her to fuck off. It was kinda epic.”</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs, and his voice catches, makes him cough, but he can’t stop, and Mingi soon joins him, too, with his open and unabashedly loud voice. For some sort of miracle, he manages to not choke on his spit, but needs to be helped to two more glasses of water, before his throat stops hurting.</p><p>He settles back down, cuddling closer to Mingi once again.</p><p>“Can I go see Ju?” he asks within a yawn.</p><p>“Of course. But, like, when you’re feeling better.” Mingi tells him, and he nods in agreement. He can’t really picture going further than to the ensuite bathroom at the moment.</p><p>“It’s gonna be my first time out the gate.” Hwanwoong murmurs, and pieces of a hazy dream come back to him, misshapen and useless, but comforting nonetheless.</p><p>The future looks bright.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. x - epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>That's all folks!</p><p>Songbird is complete. I can barely believe it. I've been working on this story for so long and I'm so happy I finally got to share it with you. I hope you loved it as much as it is dear to me. Thank you so much for reading so far, and see you soon.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>He remembers the day he stepped out the gates of the palace, still not completely recovered, but well enough he didn’t want to delay. He was afraid he’d get too scared of doing it the more he waited, and he had no intention of passing more time inside, after all he had done to be able to get out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spring coming around early didn’t really mean the chilly winter air had really left, and Hwanwoong regrets not getting a heavier coat, as he slows his horse down to a trot, approaching the Capital’s gates. One of the guards seems to recognize his name and, for a second, Hwanwoong gets nervous - there’s nothing bad that could happen, even if the guard knows who he is, anything tying him back to the palace and the Lord has been long since cleared, but the weird, irrational fear that somehow it’s not over yet still tends to grip him from time to time. But the guard just nods, instead, as he hands his passport back and urges him to move, lest he holds up the line. </p><p>He gets back on top of his horse and into the familiar streets that had started gathering colors as the annual spring festival draws near. He avoids trampling over people and animals and stands halfway through construction, workers rushing around and the occasional other rider and carriage passing by.</p><p>He remembers the day he stepped out the gates of the palace, still not completely recovered, but well enough he didn’t want to delay. He was afraid he’d get too scared of doing it the more he waited, and he had no intention of passing more time inside, after all he had done to be able to get out. He stood, Mingi by his side, as the heavy doors creaked and slowly swung open, wobbly. The palace stood in the middle of the Capital, that he had known, had seen the city roofs from the windows of his room, but having the street just right there kept seeming almost too good to be true. Somehow mocking him, by putting what he wanted the most just within his reach. He took a step out onto the sidewalk, and immediately a carriage rushed by, horses huffing and neighing, their hooves clicking over the cobblestone of the street, startling him enough to send him reeling back into Mingi’s arms.</p><p>Now, he barely has to think about the road to guide his horse the right way, until they finally find themselves in one of the smaller squares scattered around the city. There’s a blacksmith on one side, and right across a lively tavern, currently winding down from lunch rush. He can see San outside, clearing out tables and swiping the floor.</p><p>“Sanie!” he calls, waving a hand.</p><p>San looks up and breaks into one of his big, sunny smiles, leaving the broom against a table and rushing up to him. “Hello you!” he greets, before reaching towards the horse and cooing. “And hello you! You’re new, hi, hello, what’s your name!”</p><p>Hwanwoong laughs, patting the horse’s neck gently. “Baron.” he answers. Then, he tries to peer into the tavern, but he’s both too far and too high to actually see more than people still sitting at tables and someone moving around.</p><p>“There’s still a couple people in, but I can call him for you.” San offers, but Hwanwoong shakes his head.</p><p>“No, it’s ok. Just let him know I’m back.” he tells San.</p><p>San promises him so, pets Baron for a bit more and then lets him go, groaning as he gets back to his work. Hwanwoong clicks his tongue and Baron trots back into the streets.</p><p>---</p><p>The heavy iron gates swing open, this time oiled and steady, and he smiles at Geonhak as he greets him with a shout and a big smile. He stops by just enough to ask how things have been, where everyone else is at the moment, before he leads Baron towards the dorms. He leaves the horse to one of the staff, a young girl he’s never seen before, but lets him know they actually have a stable now, where another horse named Shimmer is already residing, and that’s where he can find his horse later.</p><p>Hwanwoong thanks her and walks back onto the pebbled path towards the lake where he knows Dongju is. He tries to push his restlessness away, but he fails the moment he spots Dongju, sitting in the sun, just outside the gazebo, looking towards the lake, where a few figures are gathered. He breaks into a run, calling out, and tackles the songbird on the ground. </p><p>Dongju yelps loudly, but laughs when he realizes it’s him, hugging him back tightly. “Welcome back!” he greets, arms wound tightly around him, head resting against his shoulder. Hwanwoong pulls back just enough to place a loud kiss on his cheek, before going back to his spot.</p><p>“Where’s your manners?” Dongmyeong calls, probably from the lake, and Hwanwoong frees an arm to wave in that general direction, but he gets tugged up into a sitting position. He blinks up and sees Jongho smiling back at him. “Hello, master.” he greets and Hwanwoong cringes.</p><p>“Please, don’t. Ever.” he gags.</p><p>Dongju sits back up beside him and leans into his side, head leaning on his shoulder. “How was the journey back?” he asks. </p><p>“Easy. I have a horse.” Hwanwoong replies. “Who’s that?”</p><p>He nods to Dongmyeong with his trousers rolled at the ankles and feet in the water, as a boy that doesn’t look older than thirteen is waddling around, feeding the carps who trail happily after him. He looks mildly scared, trying to step away from the herd but ending up gathering a few more. He’s tall, his frame small and slim, made of mostly legs, his blond hair is so white it refracts the light and creates a halo on his head. He’s also dressed in all white, which kinda makes it hard to look at him as he’s standing right in the sun.</p><p>Dongju smirks. “His name is Chanhee. Yeosang found him, Dongmyeong went to get him. He’s been staying with us for a month now.” he murmurs. “He’s like me, but… not broken.”</p><p>Hwanwoong elbows him in the ribs. “You’ve never been broken.” he growls, and tries his best to glare at Dongju, but he’s avoiding his stare.</p><p>“No matter - we’re trying to get some doctors together, trying to improve his health. For now, the sun and relaxation seems to be helping.” Dongju sighs, head tilted, watching as Chanhee stops to cough. It doesn’t sound too bad, but goes on long enough to have Dongmyeong walk up to him and hand him a flask. Chanhee drinks, blinking a bit into the light, and goes back to the carps.</p><p>After everything happened, after the investigations and trials and testaments and burial, Dongju and Dongmyeong were left, alone, in the remains of their parents' empire and finances, both too terribly imprepared to take care of any of it. Youngjo offered to take over, agreeing to keep everything under the name of the twins, no matter what. With most partnerships cut off, and plenty more gained, they didn’t lose much money, while they decided to invest the rest in something all of them held dear.</p><p>The big palace, too spacious for the few people owning it, had undergone total renovation, split into two sections - one for the family, in its new definition of the term, and one for fostering and housing children, but more specifically Songbirds. The idea was to avoid them getting exploited or abused, like Dongju and Hwanwoong were, to teach them what they needed to know, give them a support system that could assist them if no one else would. When Hwanwoong left,they had found the first one, a little three year old girl, with big eyes and a huge smile called Jiwoo. Two more came while he was away, a scrawny, witty teenager called Hyunseo and one called Doyoung. And now Chanhee.</p><p>“I remember thinking I was the only one around.” Hwanwoong laughs, shaking his head. He can see Hyunseo and Jaehyun approaching, along with a handful of other people who Hwanwoong assumes are guests of the palace. Chanhee spots them and stands still, one hand over his eyes to block the sun.</p><p>“I remember letting you think that.” Dongju adds, standing up and brushing off dirt and dust from his behind. He holds out a hand and Jongho appears by his side, with a dark wood cane that looks like a polished branch, the sterling silver handle shaped in the form of a finch perched on top. He uses it to poke Hwanwoong until he’s on his feet as well. “Let me introduce you. Are you staying for dinner?”</p><p>Hwanwoong thinks about Seoho, Youngjo, Hongjoong and Keonhee, who he still hasn’t even seen. He thinks he hasn’t had a full course meal in a while and how much he misses high thread count sheets and a good change of clothes and shoes. But he shakes his head. “I’ll come back for lunch tomorrow. I still have to go see Mingi.”</p><p>Dongju raises an eyebrow and promptly hits him with the cane. Hard. “Yeo Hwanwoong, what the fuck!” he hisses.</p><p>“It’s fine!” Hwanwoong says, putting his arms up in a futile attempt at blocking the blows, which hurt, yes, but he knows if Dongju was really angry, he would be curled up on the ground begging for forgiveness. “I can stay until before dinner. Let’s meet everyone.”</p><p>---</p><p>The sky is a lovely gradient of indigo to orange when Hwanwoong walks into the tavern. The bells hanging right over the door rings and he hears Wooyoung say ‘Be right there!’, as he balances three full plates of sausages and roasted potatoes, slaloming between tables. He finally seems to have noticed who entered, and does one of his high pitched screams of delight. Hwanwoong sends him a flying kiss, walking towards the counter, where Yunho is pouring ale and water for the few patrons they have.</p><p>“He’s up in his room.” Yunho cuts Hwanwoong greeting off with a knowing smile. “If you make him wait any longer I think he’ll vibrate fast enough to phase through the floor.”</p><p>Hwanwoong frowns at the image, but thanks Yunho and slips away, up and up to the third floor. There’s only a room with the door open, yellow light spilling out into the corridor from it. Hwanwoong approaches it slowly, not wanting to alert Mingi of his presence yet.</p><p>He peeks into the room and sees the man walking around the room, folding and putting away laundry, and affection immediately fills his heart to the brim. He’s grown out his hair, now messily tied back into a half ponytail, stray strands falling into his eyes as he moves around. It suits him well, Hwanwoong thinks, and pointedly refuses to think about running his hands through it. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Mingi stops, a pair of trousers in his hands, halfway through folding them. His eyes are incredibly bright and his whole face lights up as soon as Hwanwoong smiles at him. It takes him a step and a half to reach Hwanwoong and wrap his arms around his waist, lifting him up and twirling him inside the room. “I missed you so much!”</p><p>“I missed you too.” Hwanwoong replies, laughing. He clings onto Mingi, as soon as his feet are back on the ground, hugging him so tightly. “So much…”</p><p>Mingi makes a little noise, between a whine and a hum, his head tucked into Hwanwoong’s shoulder, in a pose that must be extremely uncomfortable. He doesn’t move anyway. “I thought you were staying at the palace. Have you eaten?”</p><p>“Not yet. Have you?” Hwanwoong slips out of the embrace, taking off his coat and hanging it onto a chair in the corner. As soon as its weight is gone, it’s like all the tiredness he held back comes spilling out, because he yawns, big and wide, and his shoulders feel twice as heavy as before.  </p><p>Mingi comes up to him, places a pair of soft pants and a big shirt in his arms, kissing his forehead. “No. I’ll go down and bring food here.” he says.</p><p>Hwanwoong reaches out before he can exit the room, and tugs him closer again by a wrist, his other hand coming up to his face and pulling him down for a kiss. They linger for a bit, Mingi’s hands coming to rest at the small of his back, their warmth spreading and melting away a bit of his exhaustion.</p><p>“I love you.” he says, because it’s true and because he hasn’t told him, yet.</p><p>“I love you, too.” Mingi replies.</p>
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